Bratva
by ArixaBell
Summary: AU. Ivan Braginsky, head of the local Russian mafia, falls in love with naive Alfred Jones. He hopes Alfred will never find out just what he does, but nothing in life is ever easy. De-anon from the kink meme. RusAme main, Franada
1. Chapter 1

_AU. Ivan Braginsky, head of the local Russian mafia, falls in love with naive Alfred Jones. He hopes Alfred will never find out just what he does, but nothing in life is ever easy. De-anon from the kink meme. Rated M for a few scenes of adult fun, story is mostly T otherwise. RusAme main, Franada, mentions of GerIta._

_So yeah, this is what I've been up to lately. That, and I've been stuck with my other stories. XD If you've been patiently waiting for an ending to my other RusAme ongoing story, The Best Laid Plans... sorry. ^^; I'd had an ending in mind when I started it, but lost it somewhere along the way, and now I have no idea how to interestingly conclude it yet. lol I fail._

_Bratva means 'brotherhood', a word used for various Russian crime syndicates, like the Solntsevskaya Bratva in Moscow. It seemed like a nifty word for a title, anyway._

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

Ivan tensed when he heard his bedroom door open. He wasn't on edge because he didn't know who the intruder was. Quite the opposite. It was because he _did_ know, and it creeped him out every time. And not much creeped him out.

Without any sound or warning, slender arms slipped around him. She moved on silent feet; she always did. It went with the job. "Brother..."

Ivan swallowed at the husky way she said that word. "You're back."

"Yes." Natalia stepped around him, dark smile marring her otherwise sweet appearance. With her slight figure, long flowing hair, and childish outfit, only those who already knew her would guess her true nature. "I finished what you asked of me."

A smile spread across Ivan's face. "The snitch?"

"Taken care of."

"Excellent. Good job, Nata."

She gave him a pleased, slightly hopeful look.

"I have another job for you."

"Tell me," Natalia said promptly.

"From the owner of that gentleman's club. The Dollhouse."

"The Dollhouse," she repeated, eyes narrowing and smile dropping into a frown. "That strip club is owned by Mr. Beilschmidt."

"Yes."

"You know his brother is with the Italians!" Natalia hissed.

"I know that." Ivan smirked. "Ludwig is with the Italians. And now his brother owes us a favor..."

"Ahh." Natalia giggled. "Splendid. All right, who is it?"

"A gang of thugs. They call themselves the East Side Boys. They have apparently been causing trouble in Mr. Beilschmidt's establishment."

"I see. A mob war, then?"

Ivan snorted. "Hardly. They are merely a gang of young punks. The world would be better off without them."

"I will see to it." Quick and silent, as her movements always were, Natalia simultaneously stood on tiptoe and tugged Ivan down by his scarf to kiss him. He suppressed a shudder.

After watching his sister leave, Ivan himself wandered out of his ornate bedroom. He had other things to attend to. He strolled through the vast hallways of his home, locating the men he was searching for seated in the game room playing poker, surrounded by alcohol and music.

"Toris," Ivan said. "Eduard. You're needed."

"What is it?" Toris said, tossing his cards aside.

"Go visit Wallingford Cleaners."

Eduard, fan of cards still held before his face, raised an eyebrow. "Do you need some dry cleaning done?"

Ivan sighed, running a hand through his pale hair. "No. But they are quite late in their payment for our protection."

"We're on our way." The pair stood, and Ivan turned to leave. He was pretty sure that was all the business that needed taking care of for the time being. Satisfied, he walked down to the kitchen, to the bar, and poured himself a glass of vodka. The liquid burned its usual path down his throat and he smiled, content.

He had just started in on his second glass when the doorbell rang. Frowning, Ivan set the full glass down. He was the closest to the front door, so he approached it on silent feet and glanced out the peephole. He frowned when he was confronted by the sight of a friendly grin and cardboard box. "Yes?" he said, tugging the door open. "Did somebody order a pizza?"

"Hey," the delivery boy said, "that's my line, man. Are you Toris?"

"Ah. No." Ivan noticed the logo on the box. It was an Italian place Toris had grown fond of. Not to mention one of the few Italian joints in town not under _their_ jurisdiction. Ivan patted his pockets. "Come in, let me find my wallet."

"Sure." The boy stepped inside, shutting the front door with his foot. Ivan led the way. Uncomfortable with the silence—broken occasionally by the boy's humming—he tried making idle chitchat. "So. You have been in the pizza delivery business long?"

"Nah. Just started recently. It pays okay, though not as much as my night job. I tend bar at The Hideout."

"Two jobs." Hard work was something Ivan could appreciate. The boy looked young, though. Ivan imagined he would look even younger without his glasses. "Do you go to school around here?"

"Nah," he said again. "My brother does, though. We graduated high school last year and he moved here to go to college, so I came with him. I was gonna join the Air Force right outta school, I've always wanted to, but y'know. Our parents—they're good parents! Don't get me wrong!—but they're the type of parents who are all 'You're an adult now, you're on your own!' So I decided to put off the Air Force for a year or two and work to help out my brother so he has more time to study."

Ivan held up the wallet he had retrieved, blinking at the talkative boy. He hadn't really asked for his life story... "So you put off your dream to work two thankless jobs to help your brother." He had to admit, that was somewhat impressive.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," the boy said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I get thanked sometimes! Oh, it's fifteen bucks."

Ivan nodded, pulling a ten and a five out of his wallet. "What did you say your name was?"

"Me? I'm Alfred F. Jones!" He set the pizza on the table with a grin, eyes sparkling. They were pretty, Ivan realized. His bright blue eyes and golden hair reminded Ivan of wheat fields and sunny skies. The very type of imagery that had driven him to move to that country in the first place. "You?"

"Me?" Ivan blinked, before understanding dawned. "Ah, right. I am Ivan Braginsky." He tugged another bill out for the tip, a hundred, and passed the money to Alfred.

"Thanks, man. Oh, hey..." Alfred's smile fell. "I can't make change for that."

"I know. That is for you."

"Wha—hey. I can't-"

"You will," Ivan said, eyes narrowing.

Alfred swallowed, staring up into Ivan's eyes. "Oh. Y-yeah. Thanks, man! Damn..."

Ivan glanced down at the large pizza on the table, hoping Toris chose decent toppings. The delivery boy hadn't left yet. For some reason, Ivan didn't mind. "Your jacket is nice. Is it old?"

Alfred's face lit up. "My grandfather was a World War II fighter pilot. He gave it to me when he died."

"Is that what led to your future career choice?"

"One of the reasons. What do you do? Something good I bet. Doctor? Lawyer?"

"I... run a business."

To his relief, the boy did not press for details. "Cool. So hey, I guess I better get back to work."

Ivan nodded. "Goodbye, Alfred."

"Bye!" The boy waved cheerfully, and walked off in the general direction of the front door.

Ivan retrieved his second glass of vodka, and seated himself at the table, flipping open the box. Pepperoni and mushroom. Good enough. He helped himself to a couple slices, picking mushrooms off and setting them aside. He turned the television on, occasionally giggling at the news as they reported on acts of violence.

And all the while, he kept finding himself thinking of blue eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

Ivan took a deep, shaky breath, struggling to keep his composure as he left the large sterile building. God, what a nightmare the last couple weeks had been.

First was Natalia. Oh, she had completed her job as efficiently as always, but the gang members had been surprisingly tough, leaving her injured enough to require a hospital stay. But they were dead, and she would be fine.

They were not so sure about Raivis. Their youngest member, still practically a kid, the son of a dear friend, had been shot while out the other night. They did not even know by whom, that would have to wait until he woke up. Assuming he did.

And because life just had to throw that cherry on top, Ivan's favorite horse, which he had a lot of money riding on, came in _last_.

Ivan threw one last dark look at the hospital, then turned to his waiting limo. The driver asked if they were to be heading home as Ivan passed, and he grunted an affirmative as he slipped inside. He helped himself to the limo's small bar as they pulled away, swirling the clear liquid around in its bottle, ready to lose himself in oblivion for the night.

On impulse, Ivan set the bottle away and gave the driver new instructions. He honestly had no idea why he did it. Probably, he reasoned, because it was a bar in town he knew the name of, but the owners did not know him. That was it. He wanted to drink in a bar atmosphere without being recognized by somebody who was aware of his activities.

That was the reason, exactly.

Ivan made sure his money was safely tucked away as the limo rolled to a halt. He checked the mirror to make sure his appearance was up to par. Not bad. Suitable for public. Satisfied, he stepped out to face the brick building, a sign above the green awning declaring it The Hideout. Not a high class joint, but not a dive, either. Hoping it wasn't too crowded, Ivan tugged the door open and stepped in.

The place had a mellow, homey feel to it, all wooden floors and paneling, sparkling bottles lining the wall, patrons seated at the long bar or chatting together on chairs or booths.

Ivan stepped closer to the bar, immediately recognizing the bartender—in the middle of muddling mint at the bottom of a glass—as the delivery boy from a couple weeks ago. "Excuse me."

"Just a moment." The boy—Alfred—set the glass down and grabbed a bottle of rum to add to the drink. "There we go." A bit of ice, a sprig of mint, and Alfred handed the drink to its waiting owner. "Okay. What can I do—oh!" His face broke into a grin. "Hey, I remember you. Igor?"

"Ivan."

"Yeah! I'm Alfred. Remember me? Well, sure you do, if you remember me telling you about this place. You do, don't you? Or is it a coincidence?"

"I remember," Ivan said. "I wanted to see what it was like here."

"Pretty nice, huh?" Alfred made a sweeping gesture.

"It is. Are you even old enough to drink?"

"Hey, I'm old enough to tend bar. I'm just not supposed to sample the goods." Alfred winked. "So what can I get ya? Mojito? Cosmo? Daiquiri?"

Ivan grimaced. "Just vodka, please."

"Just vodka?"

"Please."

"You're the boss."

Ivan grimaced again at that particular phrasing. He watched the boy work, fetching a bottle and glass, pouring, setting it down... Ivan picked the glass up with a smile. Chilled, no ice. Perfect.

"So how's the business?" Alfred said, leaning against the bar.

"There has... been some trouble lately."

"Ahh. That's why you're here, huh?"

"Yes."

"I don't think I could handle owning my own business." Alfred wrinkled his nose. "The worst I have to deal with now is the occasional fat guy answering the door naked. Or drunk cougars hitting on me."

Ivan smiled again. "That would be troubling." He fought down the urge to offer... assistance... if Alfred's jobs were causing him trouble.

"Hey, y'know. That's life." There were a few shouted orders, and Alfred set to work mixing some more drinks.

"How is your brother?" Ivan said after a few sips of his vodka.

"Oh, hey, he's cool." Alfred gave him a grin. "Thanks for asking. He's doing good in school. Always has. I did good, too, but I was more of a B student."

"I see."

"Nothin' wrong with that! Here, try this."

"What?" Ivan turned his gaze to the drink being held out to him. It was toilet bowl cleaner blue, with a skewered pineapple slice and cherry sticking out. "Oh, no th-"

"C'mon, try it!" Alfred held the drink closer to Ivan.

It didn't seem he would be able to convince the boy otherwise. Ivan took the glass and sipped through the straw. It was... fruity and... to be honest, it was kind of good.

"Well?"

He made a noncommittal grunt, handing the drink back. Ivan Braginsky did not consume girly cocktails.

"Well, at least you tried it." Alfred then winked at a nearby girl and handed the drink to her. She giggled and accepted it, apparently not realizing it had already been sipped from.

Ivan waited until there was another lull in orders, then tried to strike up conversation again. "So, Alfred-"

"Al," the boy interrupted. "Al is good. Alfred, it's such an old man name, don'tcha think?"

Ivan shook his head. "I had not thought-"

"Well, it _is_ an old man name." Alfred laughed. He had a pleasant laugh, full of life and happiness. "I was named after my grandfather."

"Ah yes, you mentioned him before."

"Yeah, him!" Alfred seemed pleased that his grandfather had been remembered. "D'you have any nicknames? Iv?"

Ivan winced. "I do, but... Ivan is fine."

"Aww, okay. No Iv?"

"Definitely not." It sounded like he was calling him 'Eve'. He would never live _that_ down if anybody heard them.

"Well, your name is cool, at least. There's lots of cool Ivans. What do I have? The old butler in Batman."

"Hitchcock?" Ivan suggested.

"Oh, yeah, him. He's cool." Alfred sighed. "Also old. And dead. Seriously, I would need a stage name to become famous."

"I think it is a nice name."

"You're sweet to say that." With a grin, Alfred turned to a new customer.

Sweet. When was the last time somebody had called Ivan _sweet_?

Hell, when was the last time somebody had talked to Ivan like a normal human being? It was refreshing, chatting like one of the guys. He hadn't realized how nice it would be to have a friend who was unaware of his lifestyle. Especially one with such an upbeat, friendly personality. Ivan could already tell that, even if he was the new bartender, the customers were already quite fond of him. The girls especially were hovering close, trying to catch his eye.

Ivan realized Alfred had asked him something, and was patiently waiting for an answer as he poured liquors. "What?"

"I said, do you have any brothers?"

"Oh. No. Two sisters, and a fairly big extended family. No brothers."

Alfred grinned. "Aww, sisters. Little brother Ivan! Or big brother Ivan?"

"Both."

"Oh, some of each. I'm the younger brother, myself."

For some reason, Ivan found himself wanting to learn more about this extroverted young man. It was nice just listening to him talk, the way he sounded so eager to spill out every word. It was certainly helping to keep his mind off the recent unpleasantness, even if only temporarily.

But before he could think of something else to ask, his phone rang. "Excuse me." He quickly walked to a less populated corner of the bar before answering. "Yes?" Ivan listened for a moment, eyes narrowing. "All right. I'll be there soon." Work. Of course. He just wanted one relaxing night... With a sigh, he returned to the bar.

"Alfred," he said before remembering. "Al. I need to go. It was nice talking to you."

"Aww, so soon?" The boy actually looked disappointed.

Ivan nodded. "Work."

"All right... Well, come back soon!"

Ivan couldn't stop himself from smiling. "I just might do that."

* * *

"Well. Viktor." Ivan eyed the trembling man tied to the chair. "Is it true?"

The man violently shook his head. "I... I don't..."

Toris tossed a photograph onto the table. It showed Viktor Kozlov having a rather intimate talk with Sergio Giordano.

"What were you telling him?" Ivan said, small chilly smile terrifying the bound man more than any frown or scowl.

"N-nothing! Really!"

"Then why are you so frightened? The innocent have nothing to fear from me..."

"P-please, boss! I-I didn't... he was just so... Oh god, no!"

Ivan had picked up one of his favorite weapons, an old faucet pipe nobody really wanted to know the origins of. "I have bad news for you, Vitya. You are not leaving this room alive. But how quickly I switch to a nice clean gunshot is up to you. What did you tell Mr. Giordano?" Ivan raised the pipe.

Toris averted his eyes before the first scream.

* * *

_Viktor and Sergio aren't supposed to be anybody, in case you were wondering. Just random mafia guys._


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

Alfred groaned softly as he made his way back to the land of the awake. He lifted his face from the pillow, groggy, realizing he was still on the couch. He frequently just crashed right in the living room of their small apartment the moment he came home from the bar. He only ever had a few hours of sleep a night anymore, and it was catching up with him.

Not wanting to get up (not that he ever did, even back in the days when he got eight or ten hours of sleep), he burrowed deeper under the blanket he knew he had not draped over himself. But soon the smell of coffee reached his nose, and he decided he had better get up and wake himself the liquid way before work.

Alfred rolled off the couch, blanket and pillow following him to the floor, tangling around his legs as he managed to stand. He chuckled to himself as he realized he was still wearing his clothes from the night before.

The night before... He smiled as the memory came back to his muddled mind. And the smile only grew as he repeated the conversation in his head. By the time he reached the kitchen, he was feeling human again.

"You can't keep doing this," his brother said softly, plunking a plate of toast down beside the coffee mugs. "You're going to run out of steam and keel over. Probably while behind the wheel doing a delivery."

"Good morning to you, too, Mattie." Alfred ruffled his hair as he passed—wavy hair grown long, the only real physical difference between them—then dropped onto his chair with a grin.

"I'm serious." Matthew frowned across the table at his twin.

"I know. We've gone over this a thousand times."

"Well you..." Matthew trailed off, eyes narrowing. "All right. Who is it?"

Alfred blinked. "Who's what?"

"You know you can't hide anything from me." A smile crept onto Matthew's face, much to Alfred's relief. He wasn't in the mood for another lecture on his sleeping and working habits. "It's been a while since I've seen _that_ look on your face. So who is it? Someone at work?"

Alfred felt his face grow hot. "It's not like that. We've only met a couple times."

"Yes?"

There was no use in refusing to talk. Matthew would find a way. And it wasn't like Alfred could refuse him anything, anyway. "I delivered a pizza to his place couple weeks ago. Just happened to mention my night job. And last night, he showed up. We chatted a while."

Matthew spread jam on a piece of toast. "Mm hm."

Alfred helped himself to the butter. "I don't know! He's just a really great guy, okay? He's so handsome, and he has the most amazing eyes ever, and he's tall—taller than me!—and he's foreign and sexy, and smart and sophisticated, and very nice, and-"

"Are you gonna ask him out?" Matthew interrupted.

Alfred sputtered, grateful he hadn't started eating or drinking yet. "Of course not! We've only just met. Not to mention I have no idea what team he bats for. You don't just ask random guys out, that's a good way to get your ass kicked!" He cut off further conversation by eating, devouring his toast like a starving wolf. But by the time he finished, he felt the need to defend himself further. "An amazing guy like that probably has lots of women. And besides, that might have been a one time visit, I might not ever see him again. And yeah, I only just met the guy, it's not like-"

"Okay, okay." Matthew was smiling. "Foreign, you said?"

Alfred nodded. "Russian!"

"Oh, hot."

"I know, right?" Alfred took a long drink of coffee, relaxing as the bitter liquid warmed him. "So I'm not holding my breath. But it would be nice to talk to him again."

Matthew nodded, rising from the table. He wandered around, retrieving Alfred's day clothes from where they had been tossed the previous evening. "We're not done talking about this, you know."

Alfred groaned. No, they were never done with that. At least, Mattie never was. "I really don't-"

"Do you honestly think you can do this for a few years, Al?"

"I'm still getting used to it! I'll be fine."

"You like the bar job better, don't you? I still say you could just do that."

Alfred heaved a sigh, setting his coffee mug down. "We have been over this fifty billion times. I won't have you getting all into debt long before you even have to start paying back your loans, which we also need to save for. And you're taking an assload of hard classes, and you spend all your time doing schoolwork and studying. You can't have a job, too!"

"Al..." Matthew came up behind him, resting his cheek in Alfred's hair. "You don't belong here, trapped. You're supposed to be free."

He couldn't help but smile at that. "I know. But I'm okay. The sky isn't going anywhere, the Air Force isn't gonna fill up." Alfred finally stood, accepting his outfit from Matthew. "C'mon, I have tonight off from The Hideout. We can hang out and watch movies and stuff after I'm done with Lombardi's."

Matthew gave a wavering smile. "On your night off you should be catching up on your rest."

"I'll do that, too!"

"Promise?"

"I promise!" Alfred gave his brother a friendly clap on the shoulder, ignoring his wince, and headed for the bathroom to get ready. "I swear, Mattie, you're gonna worry yourself to death long before anything ever happens to me."

* * *

"What do you _mean_ you don't know?" Ivan growled, then instantly regretted it when Raivis flinched away.

"I didn't see," the boy mumbled. "It was dark out. I walked out of the club, saw a flicker of movement in the dark, heard a shot, and then I hurt and that's all I remember."

It wasn't enough to go on, even to figure out if Raivis had been specifically targeted or not. He could very well have just walked out into a...

Ivan blinked. "What club?"

Raivis looked away, apparently discovering something interesting on the bare hospital wall. "The Dollhouse?"

"What." He didn't even make it a question.

"Well... now that Gil's kinda on our side, he said-"

"You went to The Dollhouse."

Raivis had a look on his face that seemed to say he wished he had never awakened. "I was just curious."

Great. It was bad enough the kid—not even 16 yet—drank like a fish. Now he was getting into adult clubs. His father was going to be thrilled. Ivan decided to choose something else to berate Raivis about. "You know that place is in _their_ territory."

"I know."

"It probably _was_ them."

"I guess it could have been."

Ivan's eyes narrowed, and Raivis cringed again. The Russian turned to leave.

"W-wait!"

"What?" Ivan muttered.

"Don't go after them. Okay? We don't know it was them."

Ivan eyed the injured boy, not answering.

"Please?"

"I will go where I wish." If Raivis had been in that part of town, what were the odds that it _wasn't_ one of the Italians?

"If you-"

"And don't think we are done. Once you're out of the hospital..."

Raivis quivered. Good. He should be scared.

As should those bastards. Ivan was convinced it was them. As he stalked out of the hospital, he felt for the guns he had hidden away. Just an old habit, he _knew_ they were there. Smiling darkly, Ivan returned to his limo.

And once again, he found himself giving the wrong directions to the driver. Dammit, he was in a dangerous mood. Raivis was right to worry; Ivan was going to do something stupid. He needed to let off some steam, and he needed to do it soon.

And so, he again found himself in front of an inviting brick building, finding himself looking forward to just chatting with a normal friend. To having a good drink, and a laugh. To learning the life story of someone who had had a relatively normal life, and who talked to Ivan like he too was normal.

The interior of the bar was still crowded. Ivan smiled to himself when he caught a flash of blond hair behind the busy bar. He stepped closer, narrowly avoided a man somehow carrying what must have been six mugs of beer.

A few guys at the bar made obscene catcalls at the bartender, and Ivan scowled. He stormed closer, and one person turned and walked away, giving him a better view.

Oh.

Ivan felt a stab of disappointment. The blond hair he had noticed was actually quite long, and its owner had endowments that almost rivaled Ivan's older sister. Well, sure, everybody had days off. Not him, of course, but people who had normal jobs. Ivan shoved the disappointment away, deciding that he was relieved instead.

Relieved, of course. Coming in two nights in a row, that would seem creepy. Talking to the friendly young man was nice, Ivan did not want to alienate him. So yes, he was definitely relieved. He could come back in a couple days, instead. If he decided to. He didn't have to. But just in case he wanted to for some reason, he could come back later, and not seem quite so creepy.

Ivan left the bar, returning to the chilly night. A light drizzle had started during the brief time he was inside, and he shivered. He hated the cold. He hurried toward his limo, feeling again for the reassuring weight of his various weapons. The driver asked where he wanted to go now.

Ivan smiled grimly at him. "Little Italy."


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

"Braginsky," a cool and familiar voice said behind him.

Ivan froze, staring at the red white and green painted building near him. He hadn't made it very far. "What?"

"Fancy seeing you _here_..."

"What can I say?" Ivan folded his arms, not turning around. "I was in the mood for some pasta."

"Yeah right. What trouble are you looking to cause now, Braginsky?"

"No trouble at all, officer." Ivan plastered on his most innocent smile and turned around to face the cop. "What do you want, Kirkland? I'm paid up."

The blond young cop rolled his eyes. "I wasn't looking for more bribes. I was genuinely trying to stop a war or something. You know you shouldn't be here."

Ivan shrugged. "One of my boys—literally, still a kid—was shot when he was visiting an establishment near their territory. I _know_ it was one of them."

"Yes, yes," Kirkland said. "They shot one of yours, you shoot one of theirs, they shoot another of yours... Are you mafia or feuding hillbillies?"

"Watch it, Kirkland." Ivan's violet eyes narrowed. "I'm sure you'd be _real_ upset if we all killed each other." Probably so. The bribes they paid him probably doubled his salary. He highly doubted the cop would even turn them in or stop looking the other way if they weren't paying him, but it had become routine by then.

"Let's just say you're the lesser of two evils. Get your arse out of this place."

Ivan glanced in the direction he had been heading, deeper into Little Italy. His finger twitched, aching to pull a trigger with one of them in his sights. Or better still, beat one of their heads in.

He took a deep breath, trying to channel out the anger. He had work to do, and he wouldn't be able to do it in the hospital (or six feet under), no matter how many of his enemies he was able to kill.

"Fine. I'm going."

"Splendid. Go play a violent video game or something to get it out of your system, old chap."

Ivan snorted. "I think I might go relax with a nice Cuban cigar."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that!"

* * *

"Slow night," the busty blonde complained. "Why does that always happen on nights we both work?"

"That's how life works," Alfred said, cheery as ever. He yawned, sweeping his gaze around the bar, ranking each patron on attractiveness. After a moment's consideration, he whipped up a free drink for 9.5 over in the corner.

It was something to do.

"Just go home, kid."

"No way!" Alfred scoffed at his co-worker. "I totally need the money. You go home, Brenda."

"Hush. You've got a brother, I've got a kid."

"You've got a working husband."

"Well you—oh!" Brenda left her slouching position against the wall, stepping closer to the bar. "Customer. And he's gorgeous, I call dibs."

Alfred turned, and his smile stretched into a grin. "Sorry, babe, this one's mine. Ivan! Long time no see!" He fetched out the bottle of vodka.

"It has not even been a week," the taller man said as he approached the bar, with that sexy accent of his, and the small mysterious smile.

Alfred poured him a glass of vodka and handed it over. "Work still stressing you out?"

Ivan's expression darkened slightly. "Very much so."

"Man..." Alfred's mental image of Ivan featured him in an office, yelling at someone on the phone while glaring at his computer, all while someone who worked for him begged to have the day off to attend his grandmother's funeral for the fourth time. Being a boss must be stressful. "Well, I'll keep the vodka flowing as long as it takes."

Ivan stared down at his drink, lips pursed. "Actually, I am hungry."

"Want some hot wings? Nachos?"

The corners of the Russian's lips quirked. "For real food. Somewhere else."

"Oh." Alfred put the bottle away. Ah well.

Ivan cleared his throat. "I would like a dining companion. I prefer not to dine alone."

Oh... Face warming up, Alfred straightened, staring at Ivan and wondering if he was serious. "You... I mean, I..." He glanced over at Brenda, who gave him a thumb's up. "Well, I really wish I could, but..." For god's sake, he was sounding like his _brother_.

"Oh, get going." Brenda nudged him. "Like both of us are needed here."

Should he? He needed the money. But Ivan was asking him... Was it a date? Oh geez, of course not! Alfred berated himself for even thinking that. The kind of person he could picture Ivan with was a beautiful woman in a slinky dress and mink coat. Ivan just wanted someone friendly to chat with, and Alfred was someone friendly he knew. And that was fine. This was only the third time they had met. Alfred had thought a lot of people were wonderful and interesting. And, well, sometimes he did ask them out right away, or they asked him. And... he had lost track of his train of thought.

"Sure, where to?" Alfred hopped over the bar.

Ivan turned to leave. "Ah... I was hoping you would know a place. I... I do not think you would find any of my usual restaurants to your taste."

"Try me!" Alfred said. "Though a rich guy like you, it's probably all fancy French food, huh?"

"Sometimes." Ivan smiled that small smile of his.

Alfred decided his new mission was to get a nice big grin out of the guy. No, better yet, a laugh. Not a little chuckle, but a good belly laugh. "What's your favorite place?"

"I really do want to go someplace new."

Alfred rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh..." He held the door open for Ivan. "I usually eat at fast food places."

"I see."

"But there's a steak joint not far from here I hear is pretty good! I bet they've got burgers, too."

Ivan nodded. "That sounds all right."

"Awesome! It's just a couple—is that your car?" Alfred blinked at the long black monstrosity.

"It is." Ivan nodded to the man emerging from the driver's seat. "Tell him where this place is."

"Uh..." Alfred waved to the fellow, and he politely waved back. To have one's own _driver_! Well, Alfred liked operating vehicles of all sorts, so he couldn't really imagine wanting someone else driving him around. But he told the driver the general vicinity of their destination, and the man nodded and let them in to the back, far far far from where his driver's seat was.

"Good lord," Alfred breathed. "These seats are leather. An entire other car could fit back here. You have your own bar! And a TV! I could forgo the rent and live in here if I had one!"

"I wanted a silver one, but we all have to make do."

Alfred glanced over at the Russian, wondering if that was a joke or not. Deciding it was, he laughed, and was rewarded with a teensy-bit-bigger smile.

"So." Alfred made himself comfortable—like _that_ was hard to do in that car—as they pulled away from the bar. "What part of Russia are you from?"

"Guess."

Alfred's face fell. "I, uh, I'm not too familiar with it. I only know Moscow."

"That is too bad." Ivan eyed him, and Alfred had no idea if he was upset or not. "But lucky for you, that is where I am from."

"Oh! Cool."

"And you?"

Alfred beamed. "I'm from here! I'm American, you know."

Ivan shifted back in his seat, occasionally glancing out the window. "I know. But Americans can trace their roots back to other countries, can they not?"

"Ohh! My heritage, right. Well, uh, I'm actually only half American, though I was born here." Alfred laughed. "Mom's from a far-off exotic land. Our dad though, his family's been here forever, we can trace our family on his side back to the Revolutionary War."

"That is interesting," Ivan said, and sounded like he meant it. "And your mother?"

"Guess," Alfred shot back.

"Germany?"

"No."

"Sweden?"

"Nope. Canada."

"Ah..." Ivan had that expression Mattie sometimes got when Alfred made an awesome joke. The one that said the joke must have gone over their head or something.

Then Alfred had a brilliant idea. At least, a way to find out one way or the other if this was a date or not. And if not, if it was a possibility some time in the future. "No ring, huh? Got a girlfriend or something, though?"

Ivan turned to look at Alfred with what he could have sworn was a bit of sparkle in his unusual eyes. "No."

Alfred waited for more. Surely he couldn't just leave it at _no_!

He was going to leave it at no. Well, dammit.

"And you?" The creep actually sounded kind of amused. Well, it was a start, toward Alfred's goal.

And at least that was an opening to keep going with the topic. "A girlfriend? Oh, not _me_." He mentally grinned at himself for how cleverly he had phrased that. Ivan would understand if he was interested. If not—or worse, if he turned out to be some homophobic asshole—it could mean anything else. _Just a misunderstanding, no need to kick my ass!_

"I see," Ivan said, as emotive as ever.

"You must have _no_ trouble with the ladies," Alfred went on, not giving up.

"What makes you say that?"

"Uh."

"Because I have money?"

Oh, dammit. "No!"

"Okay."

Alfred let the subject drop, turning to watch the bright, colorful city lights pass by. In due time, they rolled to a stop near the popular steak restaurant Alfred had heard about. He groaned. "Friday night..."

"Are they closed?" Ivan peered out the window. "No, it looks popular."

"That's the problem. We'll be here forever!"

"What would you suggest?"

"I don't know... there's a McDonald's right over there, but you wouldn't-"

"Let's go there."

Alfred blinked. "What?"

"We should get fast food. So that we don't have to wait long."

Alfred stared at the Russian, wondering again if he was being serious. "Sure, okay. If you want to."

Ivan's smile widened a bit—Alfred could almost see a peek of teeth!—and he slid out of the limo once the door was opened. Alfred followed, shivering slightly as he stepped back out into the chilly, neon-lit night.

"You do not like the cold, either?" Ivan said.

Alfred shook his head. "I kept trying to tell Mattie to go for a college in California, or Hawaii, or something."

"Mattie... your brother?"

Alfred mentally ran over what Ivan knew about him. Hadn't he mentioned that? "Yeah. Matthew."

"Ah. Well, I had thought about a warmer climate as well, when I first moved to this country. I am not fond of the cold, myself."

Alfred led the way toward the glowing golden arches in the near distance. "Is that why you always wear a scarf?" He'd had the thing on when they first met. Inside Ivan's home.

"One of the reasons." Ivan fell into step beside Alfred. "And my older sister had made it for me, a long time ago."

Alfred smiled warmly at him. "Really? That's sweet." So that explained the pink. Alfred tried to picture a little kid Ivan, clapping with delight as he unwrapped the gift from his sister. He chuckled to himself, earning a sidelong glance from Ivan. "Uh. Nothing. So hey, you've had fast food before, right?"

Ivan hesitated a moment before answering. "It has been a long time."

"So no, then?"

"A long time ago."

Alfred laughed. They approached the small building, and he held the door open for Ivan again. "After you."

The Russian glanced down at himself, frowning slightly. Alfred glanced down at him as well. Okay, so the nice suit probably would stand out in a fast food joint, but whatever. Lots of businessmen grabbed a bite to eat on the way home! Probably. "You're fine. You look great! What is that, Armani?"

"No," Ivan said quickly. "But thank you." He walked past Alfred, looking up at the menu with trepidation.

"Leave everything to me!" Alfred marched up to a cashier and ordered four different meals, for variety. Then he scooted over to the side to wait while his order was being thrown together.

"Do we need that much?" Ivan asked as Alfred handed two of the cups to him.

"Well sure! How much do you normally eat?"

"Ah." Ivan chuckled, and Alfred beamed. Another step closer! "You must exercise a lot."

"What makes you say that?"

"Never mind."

Their pile of food was assembled, and Alfred carried the trays to a nice corner table. He plopped down on the booth, Ivan taking the chair across from him. He unwrapped a burger and got to work. Ivan also started to eat, with a bit more grace and caution.

Between bites, Alfred started talking about his childhood—about the city he grew up in, his parents, the trouble he and his brother got into. He went into great detail describing the city—much smaller than his current one, but not too small, and was home to a waterpark, and a house rumored to be haunted that had terrified him (when he was a child, of course).

On the occasion he was able to get a word in edgewise, Ivan talked about growing up in Russia, a place completely foreign to Alfred but it sounded awesome. And he mentioned his sisters, one sweet and motherly, the other clingy and obsessive. And the more Alfred learned about Ivan, the more he wanted to learn. But all too soon, the food was gone (thanks mostly to Alfred, though Ivan ate his fair share), and they returned to the waiting limo, which had parked in the McDonald's parking lot while they ate.

"That was a rather impressive show of eating," Ivan said as they slipped back into the car.

"Oh, thanks." That was the first time Alfred had been complimented on something like that. "So I guess it's back to work."

Ivan nodded. "For me, too..."

"I hope it gets less stressful for you."

"So do I." Ivan smiled.

"But..." Alfred licked his lips. "If you need a dining companion again soon... we could try a place more like what you like."

"I would like that."

Alfred's heart beat a little faster. He still didn't have the slightest idea how platonic their outing was. "Was that a date?" he blurted before he had a chance to stop himself.

Ivan turned to study Alfred, still smiling. "Do you want it to be?"

Aaugh. "That's not fair, I asked first!"

Ivan tilted his head, as if he were contemplating something curious. Then he leaned forward and lightly touched his lips to Alfred's.


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

Ivan had had boyfriends before. Some flings and trysts during his awkward teenage years, back in Russia. More recently, some fellow mafia members, who were mostly attracted to his power—it was anybody's guess how many of those boyfriends were even attracted to men—and the occasional regular guy, who left once he found out what Ivan was. Since those were his only two options anymore, he had pretty much given up on dating.

But dammit, he just couldn't help himself. He had never met anybody like Alfred before. The boy was so alive, so open and warm. Ivan could almost—almost—picture Alfred not even caring about Ivan's profession. But Ivan hoped he never had to find out. He wouldn't _let_ Alfred find out about that.

He could still feel the ghost of their first kiss as he looked at Alfred, heart warming at the sight of the blush on the boy's cheeks, reaching all the way to his ears. They didn't say anything, and Ivan realized with a start that the limo had come to a stop in front of Alfred's bar. He was tempted to follow him in, but they both had work to do.

"I'll come back tomorrow," he said. "I'll be waiting when you get here."

Alfred nodded. "Um..."

"Yes?"

Alfred hesitated, eyes flicking toward the bar outside his window. Then he abruptly surged forward to kiss Ivan again. It was not the best kiss in the world, and their teeth connected rather painfully. But it was... sweet, as Alfred kept calling Ivan. Then the boy hurried out of the limo, running back to work.

Back to work for everyone. Eduard should be back by now, with a fresh (and free...) shipment of guns to distribute some, and sell the rest.

* * *

"Mattie!" Alfred fumbled his way through the dark room, before pouncing on the blanketed lump that was his still-sleeping brother. "MattieMattieMattie!"

The lump groaned. "The place better be on fire..."

"No, but you gotta wake up anyway!"

"What...?" Matthew's arm snaked out to turn on the bedside lamp. He squinted his bare eyes up at his twin. "You don't look like there's an emergency somewhere. Go away."

Alfred shook his head. "Come on, it's Saturday, we can sleep in. I couldn't wait!"

Matthew peered closer. "Something happen with a guy?" His eyes widened. "Was it the same one from before? The Russian?"

"It was!" Alfred bounced in excitement on the bed. Their neighbors downstairs would be thinking interesting things were going on if they were awake.

"What happened?" Sounding more awake now, Matthew retrieved his glasses from the nightstand.

"He came back tonight, and asked me out! Well, he asked me to dinner. He didn't say it was a date. And I couldn't really tell. But then afterward I finally asked, and he kissed me! And he said he'd come back tomorrow night! Tonight. You know."

"That's great, Al!" The brothers hugged, Alfred laughing in delight. "Wait, you went out on a date during work?"

"Oh." Alfred chuckled. "It was a really slow night, and Brenda was there."

"Hmm. And where are you going to find the time to continue to date?"

"I, uh... Idunno." Alfred pulled away, chewing on his lower lip. He hadn't really thought about that. He didn't exactly have time for a personal life... And he could tell from Matthew's ever so slightly triumphant look that he expected this to finally convince Alfred to drop a job.

Yeah right. He wasn't going to screw over his brother so that he could date.

"We'll figure something out," Alfred said. "He's really busy, too, so he'll understand."

Matthew let out a little sigh, though he was smiling. "What does he do?"

"He's a business owner!"

"What business?"

Alfred paused, thinking back. "I don't know what it's called."

"Oh." Matthew shrugged. "What _kind_ of business?"

"Um... heh."

"You don't know?"

"He never said!" Alfred scratched the back of his head. "I just assumed it was a regular business. You know, like the kind you see on TV, where everybody does computer work involving numbers, in a cubical farm."

Matthew gave him an exasperated look. "You're lucky you're pretty."

"Now there's a narcissistic compliment."

Matthew ignored that. "So in other words, you're smitten with this guy, but you don't know anything about him?"

"I do so!" Alfred burrowed closer, crawling under the covers to escape the cold. "I know lots about him. He's from Moscow, and he's got two sisters..." Alfred chattered on, delving into everything he knew about Ivan, until he was forcibly stopped by Matthew.

"All right!" Matthew laughed. "You know stuff about him, I get it. Now can we celebrate in the morning? I want to sleep. You should, too."

"That does sound nice..." The excited adrenaline was wearing off, and Alfred was feeling a wee bit tired. He removed his glasses and set them aside.

"I meant in your own bed," Matthew said. "At least get out of your work clothes and put some pajamas on. Oh, whatever..."

* * *

"Brother..."

Ivan froze. He had barely even made it in the front door when the familiar voice chilled his spine. "Nata. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, of course." She glided closer, skirt swirling around her slender legs. "Deathly bored. Are you sure there has been no work for me?" Her eyes narrowed. "Or are you just treating me like a china doll, _keeping_ work from me?"

Ivan swallowed. "Nothing of the sort. I will let you know the minute I have work for you."

"Good." Her eyes roamed down, expression chilling further. "Who are those for?"

"These?" Ivan glanced down at the bundle of small sunflowers, tied with ribbon. "For you, of course. A belated get well present."

The icy look thawed, just a little, and Natalia reached out to accept the flowers. "Thank you, brother."

Ivan nodded, and his younger sister turned to leave. He sagged in relief once he was alone. Now he'd have to stop at the flower shop _again_...

He had business to take care of first, though. Toris and Eduard emerged from a nearby hallway together, looking grim, nodding to Ivan when they approached. Ivan was already thoroughly armed—as he usually was—but Toris carried his pipe, which he handed over. Gripping it, Ivan smiled darkly.

The trio turned and walked out the front door, toward the waiting limo.


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

Ivan glanced at his Rolex for the thousandth time, annoyed with himself for showing up too early. He was cold, and he kind of had to pee. But wait he did. He didn't want to miss him, and moving hurt, anyway. Not that he was a wimp when it came to pain, but why hurt if he didn't have to?

At long last, a bus pulled up to a nearby stop, and among the exiting crowd was a be-cowlicked head of gold hair. Alfred instantly caught sight of Ivan, waiting near the bar's entrance, and waved enthusiastically, face lighting up like the sun. Ivan felt better about his long wait already.

"Hey!" Alfred, apparently over his bout of shyness yesterday, flung himself at Ivan and hugged tight. Taken by surprise, Ivan stumbled back a step, wincing. "You're really here! I mean, I didn't doubt you or anything, I just thought maybe last night was a dream or something, you know?"

"It wasn't," Ivan assured him. "How was your day?"

"Good!" Alfred stepped back. "No deliveries on the weekend for me. Today I hung out at home, but if you wanna do something away from my work early tomorrow..."

"That would be nice." Ivan had tucked the second bouquet of flowers in an inner pocket to keep it safe from prying eyes. He retrieved it, grateful that it had survived intact in there. "Here."

"Aww!" Alfred accepted the flowers, eyes sparkling. "Are you not the sweetest thing?"

Ivan coughed, unsure of how to respond. It was his first time giving flowers to a date. "Well, we should-"

"You're from the biggest country in the world," Alfred interrupted.

Ivan stared at him, baffled by the random spewing of a well-known factoid. "Yes?"

Alfred nodded. "Moscow's the capital and largest city. Saint Petersburg's the second largest, and used to be the capital."

"Why-"

"The flag's white, blue, and red, and the national symbol thingy is a two-headed eagle. Which is pretty cool, 'cause both our countries have the whole red white and blue and eagle things going on." Alfred beamed. "There've been like five thousand different types of government. Ballet and hockey are popular. There's pretty buildings. And a lot of the country is really fucking cold."

Ivan was finding it hard not to laugh. "You should let your brother do the studying."

"Hey, he was doing book studying today, so I got the internet!"

And for some reason, Ivan couldn't help but feel touched. Alfred's free time was precious, and he spent it looking up facts about Russia. Granted, they were facts one would expect to find in a grade school student's paper, but it was the thought that counted.

"Can we go inside?"

"Oh, sure!" Alfred walked over to the door with that ever-present bounce in his step. Ivan's smile grew. Alfred really was life. He followed after the boy as well as he could, hoping he did not see. But the world was not that kind, and Alfred glanced over his shoulder too quickly for Ivan to stop. "You're limping!" Well, it wasn't like he could have hidden that forever.

"It's nothing," Ivan said with a wave of his hand.

"What happened?" Alfred returned to Ivan's side.

Ivan hated himself for lying to Alfred, but he knew he was going to have to get used to it. "I stumbled this morning getting out of bed, ran right into the nightstand."

Alfred winced in sympathetic pain. "I do that a lot." To Ivan's relief, he did not pry further or try to tend to his leg. The discovery of bandages wrapped around it would kill that excuse. "It should be okay tomorrow, right? So we can walk around somewhere?"

"It will be fine."

"Good." Alfred smiled at Ivan, and suddenly, he was once again the shy and nervous boy he had been last night. A light dusting of pink covered his cheeks. "Say..."

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you again?"

Oh. Ivan nodded. "Of course." They had only shared two chaste kisses. He certainly wouldn't mind more. His breath caught as he looked down into Alfred's flushed, eager, honest face. His summer sky eyes were open wide, lips parted slightly, looking very inviting. Alfred wrapped his arms around Ivan, leaning up to touch their lips together. Ivan hesitated, not sure what to do with his own hands. He finally decided to be daring, and settled them on the boy's hips. He ran his tongue along Alfred's lips until they parted further, granting him access to the sweet, hot mouth. Oh, it was nice. The boy's youth and flustered kissing had led Ivan to thinking maybe he was... inexperienced. But no, he had kissed before. Either that, or he was a very quick learner. His tongue danced with Ivan's, and his hands roamed and explored.

Ivan finally, gently pushed Alfred away, drawing in a much-needed breath. "All right. Not too much before you have to go to work."

Alfred chuckled—if he didn't know any better, Ivan might have even called it a giggle—and turned back toward the bar. "Yeah. Work. Geez, sorry our dates are so lame. Work and fast food."

"Tomorrow we will make up for it," Ivan said, limping after Alfred. "But for now, I think I will make use of your restroom."

"All right. Vodka will be waiting."

"Thank you."

And so Ivan found himself again idly sipping his drink while waiting for Alfred to be free for a moment between serving drinks so they could chat (the flowers sat in a bit of water in a beer mug, which Alfred kept close at all times). Yes, they would definitely have to find something nice to do tomorrow. But with two busy people, they had to make do as best they could. At least Alfred _had_ a job where he was free to chat. Ivan found himself wondering if he was allowed to have a passenger when he delivered food. No, that would be silly.

"Heh," Alfred said at one point, chopping into a lemon. "Hope they're off duty. Don't want trouble in here. Or drunk cops on duty..."

"What?" Ivan turned, wincing at the sight of a pair of police officers wandering in. They did have the casual look of a couple guys coming in for a drink after work. But still. They were definitely not cops on _his_ payroll, and they looked vaguely familiar. "I need to use the restroom again."

"So soon?" Alfred laughed.

Ivan nodded. "I may be a while." As long as it took them to drink.

"Uh oh."

"I, um... I was intrigued by the fast food we had the other day. So I tried a taco place today." Not even remotely true, of course.

Alfred laughed harder. "Oh! Hey, I've been there, man. Take all the time you need."

Ivan walked as briskly as he could toward his hiding spot, thinking that he really needed to come up with some better excuses in the future... He sighed to himself, feeling a wave of sadness when he realized just how much of their relationship was going to depend on lies.


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

As Ivan approached the bar that morning, which they had chosen as a convenient place to meet, he was surprised to find Alfred already there. It seemed he would not have a repeat performance of his long wait the last time he had shown up early. Alfred was chatting with another blond young man, slightly shorter than himself. Ivan thought nothing of it until the other man kept getting closer to Alfred, who kept backing away.

Ivan's eyes narrowed. Oh, come on. Clearly Alfred was not comfortable with the fellow invading his personal space, couldn't he take the hint and back off? The man gripped Alfred's shoulders and pressed him back against the wall. He leaned in far too close. Alfred turned his face away. The man tilted Al's chin back and forcibly kissed him.

Ivan was at their side in an instant, seeing red. He jerked the other blond man back, picking him up by the collar until they were nose-to-nose, threatening to bring an end to his miserable life after possibly breaking his bones and plucking his ridiculous beard out. The man was yelling panicked words in what sounded like French, which Ivan paid no attention to. It wasn't easy to hear over the roaring in his ears, anyway.

Alfred was yelling as well, his words gradually filtering into Ivan's brain. "Oh god, who _are_ you? Francis, do you know him? What's going on?" Ivan slowly turned to look at Alfred, eyes narrowing as the red haze faded. It was unmistakably Alfred, but his words made no...

Wait...

Now that he really looked, the hair was off. Who...? "Ah... you are... Matthew?"

"Yes!" the boy said, desperately trying to get the Frenchman out of Ivan's grip. "Why are..." He trailed off, realization dawning in his eyes. "Oh."

Ivan released the blond—Francis, was it?—and backed away, feeling the burning sensation of embarrassment well up inside him. He quickly squashed it. "My apologies."

To his surprise, Matthew stared at him for just a moment before bursting into laughter. Francis gave him a dirty look.

"I'm glad you find this funny! That man tried to kill me!"

Matthew's laughter trailed off into a chuckle. "I'm going to take a wild guess and say this is Ivan. My brother's new boyfriend."

Ivan scowled to himself. How could he have made such a stupid mistake? But at least Matthew was laughing. It would not do to start a new relationship with his boyfriend's relatives pissed at him. "Alfred has spoken much about you. Though I must say, he never said you two looked so much alike."

Matthew tilted his head, smile fading. "He has spoken much about me, but never mentioned that we were twins?"

Ivan shook his head. "I don't recall him saying that. He said that you were older..."

"I am. By like five minutes."

"I am terribly sor-" Ivan blinked. "Why am I apologizing?" He turned on Francis. "Regardless of who he is, your advances still did not look welcome."

Matthew quickly got between them. "Oh, hey, it's okay. He was just being Francis. But thanks for trying to protect our virtue."

"Our?" Francis muttered.

"Mine and Alfred's. Not you, you have no virtue."

Rather than be offended, Francis made a flourishing bow. "I suppose I shall depart. If you wish to stay with this fellow-" He eyed the bigger man "-and give him the shotgun talk, good luck to you." And Francis actually had the audacity to squeeze Matthew's butt as he passed by.

"What is the shotgun talk?" Ivan wondered.

Matthew smiled. "Oh, you know, where I threaten you with horrible things if you ever hurt Al... I won't though."

Somehow, Ivan didn't feel particularly threatened. Not that he ever intended to hurt Alfred, and the intention was cute. But despite looking just like him, there was something... different about Matthew. The way he stood and the way he spoke, he almost seemed perpetually insecure.

Of course, Ivan had only known him for about five seconds, and much of that time had been spent yelling in terror at Ivan.

"Nor will I hurt him," Ivan said. He glanced in the direction the friendly Frenchman had gone. "Your boyfriend is interesting."

"He's not my boyfriend," Matthew said quickly. "Not really. I mean, there was one night after a pretty crazy party, but that was all. He treats everyone like that."

Ivan raised an eyebrow, and Matthew blushed. For some reason, a blush suited Matthew better than it did Alfred. Yet that just made it all the cuter when Al did it.

"Don't get me wrong," Matthew said. "I'm not a partier. That was the only one I've been to. And, you know, peer pressure, lots of beer and pot lying around, lots of dorm rooms and empty beds, and Francis is the way he is..."

Ivan blinked. He thought back to the first time he had met Alfred, how the boy had spilled his story within moments of meeting Ivan. Apparently there was something in their genes that caused that. "I was not judging you. Does he treat Al that way?"

"Oh." Matthew's smile returned, blush fading. "Al can't stand him."

"Good." He couldn't help but notice that Matthew had neglected to actually answer the question, though.

"It was the same night..." Matthew looked down at his feet with a bashful look. "Francis followed me home, and we were so wasted we ended up in Al's room by mistake, and crashed on his bed. And he doesn't usually bother turning on the light when he comes home from the bar and goes to bed..."

Ivan smirked. "I see."

"It didn't help that Francis said something about being the meat in a Jones sandwich..."

"That's lovely."

Matthew, looking embarrassed again, finally stopped his story telling. Ivan idly wondered if it was him. People did have a tendency to spill their guts around him.

"Well... well it was nice to finally meet you," Matthew said.

The word 'finally' amused Ivan, considering they hadn't been together all _that_ long. Just how much had Alfred been talking about him? "And you as well."

"Hey, look! It's my two favorite guys!" Alfred, carrying a large paper soda cup, strolled over. He was grinning broadly at them. "Whatcha talking about? Hmm?"

"Not you," Matthew said.

It was interesting, being able to compare them side-by-side. Matthew almost looked smaller and shorter, though Ivan could tell they were the same size. It was all in his posture and bearing.

"Sure, sure. And what are you doing here, anyway?" Alfred asked between sips.

"Waiting for you. This is where you said you were going." Matthew tugged something out of his pocket and held it up. A wallet.

Alfred peered closer at it, confused. Then he tugged his own wallet out and flipped through it. He laughed. "Oh! Oops." The brothers exchanged wallets. "Well, not like it matters, I could use your ID. Oh, you want me to pay you back for the drink?"

Matthew shook his head. "Have fun on your date. Bye, Ivan."

Ivan nodded. "Goodbye." He eyed Alfred, who was sidling closer now that his brother was gone. "Forgot to mention you were twins, hm?"

"Did I?" Alfred scratched his head. "I can't imagine why I would do that." He paused, grin somehow managing to grow bigger. "What'd you do? You didn't kiss him, did you?"

"No," Ivan said, realizing it may very well be a good thing Francis had been there. "Just threatened a friend of his who was being overly friendly with him. But I would have done that even if I had known that was Matthew."

Alfred grimaced. "Ugh. Francis?"

"That's him."

"Great. If you had any idea how I met that creep..."

Ivan patted Alfred's shoulder. "Your brother is a big boy. So I was thinking-"

"Let's go to the park," Alfred said.

Oh. Well, dinner and dancing could wait. Better if it was when Alfred had the night off rather than the day, anyway. "All right."

A quick car ride later, and the pair found themselves at the edge of the city's biggest park. Alfred looked giddy with delight, and almost immediately hurried toward the nearest pile of leaves to kick. And Ivan smiled after him, trying to think about how endearing it was rather than the age difference that separated them. Alfred wasn't a child, and would still be just as sweet and enthusiastic in ten years. When Ivan would be... well. Ten years older.

Ivan blinked, realizing that in his split second of mind wandering, he had lost track of Alfred. "Al?" He glanced around, and was just about to leave and look around when a handful of damp leaves was dumped onto his head. Ivan gave a startled curse.

Laughing, Alfred hurried away. "Ha! Too bad I had to sneak up behind you, I'm sure your face looked great!"

Ivan supposed a little maturity might do Alfred some good. He shuddered to think of what snowy days would be like. He'd have to keep Toris and Eduard with him as backup. The mental image of the three of them on snowball patrol, armed with their own icy weaponry, was so ridiculous Ivan almost laughed. What was Alfred doing to him?

The whole day wasn't spent chasing the boy around like a weary babysitter, at least. Alfred finally joined Ivan in simply walking around the park, enjoying the atmosphere and watching children play, dogs being walked, couples sharing picnics. Ivan had not been on a picnic since leaving Russia, that might have been nice if he had known their destination ahead of time. Never one to miss an opportunity to eat, Alfred purchased some junk food from the various vendors scattered around the park and they ate at a picnic table. It wasn't quite as romantic as a meal from home packed into a basket, but it was still rather pleasant.

After that, Alfred suggested Ivan push him on a swing. Which wouldn't have been so bad, but once his turn was done, Alfred insisted on returning the favor. Ivan spent the entire time trying to burrow his face into his scarf, wondering what the odds were of nobody in the park recognizing him.

"Come on," Alfred said, tugging on Ivan's hand. "One more thing. You'll like this."

"Will I?" Ivan let himself be dragged. "What is it?"

"This!"

Ivan stopped and looked around, puzzled. "We're behind a shed."

"I know."

"There's nothing here."

"And nobody." Alfred stepped closer with a sparkle in his eyes.

"Well of course there's nobody he... oh." Ivan swallowed as Alfred pressed closer.

"I can kiss you again?"

"You don't need to ask."

"All right." Alfred leaned up slightly to kiss Ivan. Their arms went around each other as they thoroughly explored each other's mouths. Ivan soon forgot he was in public as he slid his hands down Alfred's back, wondering if he dared. He did. He let them wander a little lower.

Ivan felt a sudden cool touch, and realized that at some time during their kisses, Alfred had slipped a hand into his coat. How had he missed those dexterous fingers undoing the buttons of his dress shirt? Ivan moaned into Alfred's mouth as the hand lightly traced over the planes of his stomach and chest, and again when the fingers caressed and tweaked a nipple.

Two could play at that.

It was a well known fact among most of the people who knew Ivan that he could be _mean_. So Ivan did not go for the boy's shirt as well, much as he wanted to explore after seeing the way his broad shoulders moved under his clothing as he worked. No, he went right for the button and zipper of his jeans, delighting in the soft gasp when he worked the pants open, pushed the elastic band of boxers down. Ivan smiled into the kiss as he skimmed his fingers over Alfred's already quite hard length, feeling him for the first time. Alfred shivered, breaking the kiss with a low moan.

"N-no fair," Alfred gasped.

"Hmm." Ivan trailed his fingers along the vein, smoothed his thumb over the head, greatly enjoying the noises and movements his actions were eliciting. With a smirk, he firmly gripped Alfred's shaft and pumped with quick strokes. Alfred practically fell into Ivan, clinging to him as he whimpered and his body trembled.

"S-stop!" Alfred finally said.

The scariest word one could hear during such activity. Ivan jerked away as if the boy's penis had grown red-hot. "I'm sorry! I shouldn't have-"

"No, no." Alfred laughed weakly, attempting to pull his pants up. "No, it's not that. I just... uh... you know, not _here_."

"Oh." Ivan sagged in relief, heart attack averted.

"Should be someplace at least a little nicer." Alfred smiled. "And preferably with... uh..." He trailed off, face reddening. Ah, Ivan loved that blush...

"With?"

Alfred mumbled something undecipherable.

"What was that?"

"I _said_, preferably with... withyouinsideme."

"With me what?" Oh, Ivan had heard him that time.

"With _you_ in_side_ me." Alfred had gone alarmingly red.

Dear god he was beautiful. Ivan leaned in to kiss Alfred again.

"The car?" Alfred breathed when they parted again.

"You want to do it in the car?"

Alfred chuckled. "Normally not, but yours is huge and sexy and will totally work."

There was no denying that. "All right. Do I need to carry you?"

"Ha." Finished making himself somewhat presentable, Alfred took off in the direction of the limo. Not wanting to be left behind, Ivan hurried after him, ignoring the twinges in his injured leg. Alfred was laughing in jubilant delight as they ran, both moving somewhat awkwardly for various reasons.

"I thought we'd never get here," Alfred said as he gave the glossy black door of the limo a fond pat. "Come on!"

"Patience," Ivan said, letting himself in. The driver seemed to have read their minds, and was excusing himself to go get a hot dog from a cart

"Says the one who's diving head-first inside," Alfred scoffed as he followed Ivan, closing the door behind himself. Safely inside, Alfred plastered himself against Ivan, kissing him deeply and attempting to tug his coat off. "Oh!" Alfred backed away again. "Wait wait. Do we have... you know... stuff? Supplies? You know."

"I know," Ivan said with a chuckle. "Hold on." He rummaged around in the various storage compartments until locating what he wanted. He sat back with a tube of lubricant and a condom.

"Well. Somebody's prepared." Alfred took the items from Ivan, grinning, though it abruptly faded as he peered closer at them.

Ivan blinked. "What?

Alfred was studying the condom. "Dude... no way. Really?"

"What?"

"Seriously?" Alfred turned his gaze to Ivan. Specifically, Ivan's crotch. "This I gotta see." And he pounced closer, tugging at Ivan's belt.

Ivan leaned back and let the boy work, chuckling. "Poor Alfred. My condom impresses you? What are you, an extra small?" It was a joke, of course. And Alfred had to realize that, seeing as how Ivan was already rather familiar with his size. But Alfred grew flustered anyway, fumbling with the belt.

"N-no! There is an in-between, you know!" Alfred jerked the belt out of its loops and tossed it aside, then attacked Ivan's pants, quickly shoving them down. "Oh..."

"Was that a compliment or not?" Ivan wondered.

Alfred licked his lips. "Wow. Definitely a compliment. Dang."

Ivan smiled. If he didn't know better, he could have sworn his face felt warm. "Thank you."

"Could I...?" Alfred made a vague gesture with his hands. "Uh..."

Ivan nodded, though he had no idea what he was agreeing with. Under the circumstances, he couldn't imagine it being something bad. Alfred scooted down to the car's floor, between Ivan's knees, and the Russian swallowed thickly. Was Alfred going to...?

Yes. He was. Alfred leaned forward and gave Ivan's erection an experimental lick, from root to tip. Ivan shivered, a groan escaping. "You..."

Alfred grinned up at him. "Yum."

Ivan could have sworn his face felt hotter. "Al..."

Alfred winked, then lowered his face, sucking the head of Ivan's cock into his hot, wet mouth. He suckled at it, using his hands to tease everywhere else, until Ivan thought he would come undone. And then he abruptly pulled back, releasing Ivan's cockhead with a wet _pop_.

"Ah..." Already feeling boneless, Ivan wasn't sure how they would even finish this. They were still mostly dressed. This was going to be difficult.

"C'mon, lazybones."

Ivan lifted his head, and realized Alfred was already well into undressing. His jacket was placed carefully on the seat, and he was tugging his shirt off. Ivan let his eyes wander in appreciation over the expanse of golden skin over taut muscles, the broad shoulders that were just as delightful as he had imagined, the dusky pebbled nipples. And it didn't stop there. Alfred's pants and underwear soon joined the shirt, leaving the blond (and oh, was that color delightfully natural) nice and bare. Definitely not an extra small.

Ivan snapped out of his appreciative daze, fumbling with his own clothing and stripping them off. He was much more careful as he set them aside, seeing as how his suit probably cost as much as Alfred made in a month. The last thing to go was his scarf, unwrapped from his neck and carefully tucked away. He wasn't even aware of moving before they were plastered together again, skin to skin, heartbeat against heartbeat.

"You're not a virgin, are you?" Ivan asked between kisses.

"No!" Alfred trailed kisses down Ivan's jaw. "Why?"

"Just—ahh—just asking. You are young, so..."

Alfred was practically in his lap, and they were both planting wet kisses wherever they could reach. "Nope. Done this before."

"I can tell," Ivan gasped. He wondered if he should feel jealous of Alfred's past lovers, or track them down to buy them drinks.

Ivan gently pushed Alfred onto his back on the seat, following him down. It was, at least, big enough for them to comfortably lay on without fear of falling off or being violated by seatbelts. He leaned over to place kisses along the inside of Alfred's thigh, enjoying the tremble of the muscles there as his lips touched. Unable to resist, he returned the boy's earlier favor, giving his cock one long lick and drawing a whine out of him.

Ivan pulled back again, uncapping the lube and squirting a generous amount onto his hands, warming it up. Alfred drew his legs back further, and gasped sharply when Ivan slid a finger into him.

"Okay?" Ivan asked.

"N-no."

"What?"

Alfred squirmed. "You've got an awesome big dick and you're asking me if I'm okay with one stupid little finger."

Ivan rolled his eyes. "Patience. I do not wish to hurt you." What happened to his blushing nervous self? Ivan hoped it was the lust talking, and Alfred's innocent sweetness wasn't entirely dead. As Alfred whined and moaned and squirmed, Ivan tried as quickly as possible to stretch him out with his fingers, smiling whenever he brushed the spot that drew out much louder noises.

"Th-that's good enough," Alfred panted.

Ivan was only too happy to agree, removing his fingers and tending to himself. Once the condom and more lubricant were in place, he crawled atop Alfred, kissing him tenderly. His face was flushed, golden hair fanned out on the seat. Ivan realized this was the first time he had seen Alfred without his glasses, and was immediately enchanted. Not that his glasses weren't sexy. Ivan kissed Alfred's nose, then reached down to press Alfred's legs out of the way, and position himself.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

Ivan slid halfway in with one fluid motion, groaning, as Alfred arched back with a low cry. Ivan paused to let him adjust before drawing back slightly and thrusting in again, until he was fully sheathed. Alfred's tiny grimaces of pain did not go unnoticed, and Ivan reached down to caress his chest, his stomach, his balls, until the boy relaxed.

"God," Alfred gasped.

"All right?"

"Feels good."

Ivan smiled down at him. "So do you. You're beautiful."

"Oh god," Alfred said again. "M-move. _Please_?"

Ivan did, rocking his hips into the eager, lovely, trembling body beneath him. Alfred wrapped his limbs around Ivan and was soon meeting his thrusts, their speech becoming garbled babbling amidst the moans and gasps.

It was everything Ivan had hoped it would be, and more. Being inside Alfred was indescribable. Having the perfect body underneath him writhing and moaning his name was almost enough in and of itself to make him come. Every time Ivan tried to pause and savor the moment, Alfred breathlessly begged for more.

Ivan did his best to make it last, but he knew it had been a while for both of them (well, with Alfred it was more of a guess). Long languid thrusts became sharp and erratic as more heat coiled inside Ivan. He managed to wedge a hand between their bodies to stroke Alfred, soon feeling his body tense, feeling the warm liquid spurt onto his hand, as Alfred cried out. Ivan gently continued to stroke Alfred until he was spent. It was only a few more shaky thrusts before he too was pushed over the edge, and Alfred leaned up to swallow Ivan's moan with a kiss as he climaxed inside him.

Nothing was said for a long while. After a brief clean up, they lay in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow.

"You really are beautiful," Ivan murmured, running his fingers lightly over Alfred's side.

"Oh, stop." Alfred giggled. There was no denying it, that was a giggle. "I am not. I'm a guy."

"Handsome, then?"

"You're the handsome one."

It seemed that every time they got together, Ivan saw a new side of Alfred. Now he was seeing the peaceful, sated, happily worn out Alfred, and it was just as endearing as all the others. His damp hair was either clinging to his face, or sticking out in random directions. His eyelids looked like they could barely stay open. His lips were still slightly swollen from kissing, and Ivan couldn't stop himself from tasting them again.

"Boy..." Alfred said with a goofy smile. "Do _I_ need to get cleaned up before work."

Ivan nodded reluctantly. "I suppose we had better get you home to shower."

"Mm. Suppose so." But Alfred just clung tighter, legs tangled with Ivan's.

"Come on." Ivan kissed his lover's forehead. "We have things to do."

"Yeah..."

They finally pulled themselves apart and reached for their clothes.

"Oh," Ivan said, tugging on his underwear. "Next time will be my turn to pick the date. Like this time was supposed to be."

"Whatever you say," Alfred said with a dreamy smile. "You're the boss."


	8. Chapter 8

_I'm glad everyone liked the sex. XD Though were you guys really that surprised? It's an M rated story that said in the beginning there would be a couple adult scenes. lol Ah, kink meme, what have you done to me...  
_

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

Ivan Braginsky was not the type of man who slunk into a place like a nervous common criminal. But for the time being, he was too worried to concern himself over such matters. And so he slipped through the front door, keeping to the restaurant's shadows and trying not to meet anybody's eyes. As if somebody wouldn't recognize a tall pale-haired man in a scarf because they couldn't see his face. Fortunately, the diners only had eyes for their food or companions, and the wait staff were concentrating on their jobs, so Ivan remained unnoticed as he slunk through the warm, homey dining area. His nose was invaded by the aroma of tomatoes and cheese and herbs, but he wasn't feeling hungry.

He had started to think he might just make it unnoticed when he ran right into the owner, Gino Lombardi himself. It was hard to say who was more surprised.

"_S-Signor_ Braginsky!" The man backed away, color draining from his face. "Why are you here? I'm not with them! You know I'm not!"

Ivan sighed, glancing around to make sure nobody else was paying attention. "I was called by one of your waiters. I am here for Alfred Jones."

"You are Al's friend?" Gino did not relax. If anything, he looked even more frightened. Ivan could pretty much guess what he would be thinking. _Why Alfred? What are you doing with that innocent boy?_

"I am." Why Ivan had been called and not Matthew remained to be discovered (or the hospital, even). "Where is he?"

"In the kitchen. But ple-"

Ivan stepped closer with a cold smile. "Alfred is not to find out what I do."

"Wh-"

"If he does, I will be very displeased."

Gino trembled. "I won't tell him!"

"See to it. And before I go in there, I want you to discretely clear the kitchen of anyone who would recognize me."

"B-but... I can't..."

Ivan placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "I am not exaggerating in the slightest. Alfred finds out, very unhappy Ivan."

"_S-sì,__ Signore_!" Gino squeaked. He fled through the nearby door, into the kitchen. Ivan waited, worry gnawing at him while he watched the occasional confused chef and waiter leave. Once Gino poked his head out and nodded, Ivan hurried in.

He looked around, blissfully ignored by the staff that remained. He located Alfred seated in a chair beyond the big stone fire oven, looking annoyed as one of the waitresses fussed over him.

Ivan unceremoniously shoved the girl aside, kneeling down beside Alfred. "I am here."

"Oh, hey..." Alfred looked away with an embarrassed flush.

"Alfred."

The boy flinched and turned back to face him. "What?"

"Why did you not tell me things were so bad?"

"S'nothing I can't handle..." Alfred mumbled.

Ivan's eyes narrowed. "They said you passed out in the middle of the kitchen."

"Yeah, well..."

"What if you had been in the middle of a delivery, hm?"

"Heh." Alfred raked a hand through his hair. "Now you're sounding like Mattie." He flinched again. "Please don't tell him, okay? He'd just worry, and-"

"That is why you had them contact me?"

"Well, yeah, and he's in class, and..." Alfred shrugged a shoulder. "Look, it's really not-"

"I work hard myself," Ivan said. "And you are always so energetic and cheerful, it never occurred to me you were quite so overworked. Has it been like this the whole time?"

"Maybe..."

Ivan shook his head. "Unacceptable."

"Oh, don't _you_ start!" Alfred snapped, eyes flashing.

Ivan drew back in surprise, unused to anger from Alfred. "Those who care about you are allowed to worry."

"I've been listening to all the same arguments from Matt this whole time! I doubt there's anything new you could say."

"Oh?" Ivan pursed his lips. "You work hard for your brother, yes?"

"Of course! We need the mo-"

"And he has been worried and arguing this whole time?"

Alfred exhaled in an annoyed sigh. "Yeees. Because he-"

"So. Explain to me how you are helping Matthew by working yourself to the point of exhaustion, presumably unable to work either job in this condition, and worrying him to distraction when he should be concentrating on school?"

Alfred opened his mouth to answer, but changed his mind and glared instead.

Ivan nodded. "I thought so."

"Look, it doesn't matter! He can't work, and just working one job isn't going to pay for rent _and_ food _and_ bills _and_ his schooling and books and everything!"

"Then don't worry about his schooling anymore."

Alfred looked ready to throttle Ivan. "I can't! I know he doesn't have to pay loans back yet, but I don't want him to start a new career in debt! I want to save for-"

Ivan pressed a finger to Alfred's lips. "Consider it paid for. Books, too."

Alfred drew back in shock, eyes wide. "_No_, Ivan-"

"It is not open to discussion," Ivan said firmly. "Nor is you quitting one of your jobs, because you will."

"You _can't_ just-"

"I can. Which job do you prefer?"

"But charity is-"

"It's not charity. It is... a scholarship from my company."

"Ivan!" Alfred looked like he was about to panic.

"Which job will you keep?"

"Look, Ivan, I-"

"No."

"If you'd just-"

"No."

Alfred's angry expression finally cracked, and he laughed helplessly. "It's like trying to argue with a brick wall."

Ivan nodded. "Yes it is."

"I like the bar better..."

"I thought you might." Ivan smiled at his lover. Well that hadn't been particularly difficult. Matthew was a good boy, but he was too soft to go up against his twin's stubborn streak. Alfred needed a nice brick wall once in a while. "You will inform Lombardi soon?"

"He's gonna hate you..."

"I am prepared for that."

"And Mattie's gonna be smug..."

"I'm sure he will be too relieved to be smug."

Alfred snorted. "If I didn't already know better, I'd say you were an only child if you honestly think that."

"Well." Ivan stood. "My job was to take you home. You will get lots of rest."

"Yeah..." Alfred allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

"And on your next night off, we will go out." And maybe _this_ time Ivan would get to choose the place. He kept thinking that, but it never happened for some reason. Their dates had consisted of going to a football game, going bowling, an action movie, laser tag (which Ivan had been rather good at), and sundry other activities chosen by Alfred.

"Yeah," Alfred said again, perking up.

"Come. I will not tell Matthew that you collapsed. Just that you were tired."

"Thanks."

They left the kitchen, Ivan glancing around warily. He spotted Gino and glared, changing the other man's expression from disapproving to terrified. Gino nodded and gestured toward the front door. _The coast is clear!_ Alfred didn't question it when Ivan hurried him out of the restaurant.

"I am gonna miss that place..." Alfred pouted. "And it's how I met you!"

Ivan smiled. "That is sweet. But if you prefer the other job, that is what you should do for now."

"Yeah..."

A quick ride later, and Ivan was following Alfred into the small apartment he shared with his brother. Nothing had changed since the last time he had been there. It was funny how one could instantly tell who lived more in which area at a glance. The corner of the living room with the computer desk was relatively neat. The corner with the recliner was littered with food wrappers, the occasional beer can, and comic books. The right half of the couch was marred by food stains, more wrappers, and even discarded clothes. The left half was pristine, even its pillows straighter and plumper. It was endearing, the twins always sitting in the same spots, even when they did things together. It was also kind of weird, that Matthew's cleaning never ventured into Alfred's territory.

The walls were decorated with various photos from the boys' baby- and childhood. Ivan had given up trying to guess which child was whom in them.

"Want something to eat?" Alfred asked, gently hanging his jacket up. It was the only thing he owned that he treated with care.

"Sit," Ivan said. "You're supposed to be resting.

"All right..." Alfred dropped into his recliner with a rustle of candy wrappers.

"But I might stay," Ivan mused. "To make sure you rest. And to see your brother gloat."

Alfred snorted. "Jerk. You'd just confuse us again, like always."

"I have only done that twice. How could I confuse you two if he came walking in the door?"

"You could."

Ivan once again mentally cursed Matthew for telling Alfred about the second time, not long after the first time they had slept together...

_There was Alfred at their meeting place, right on time. Smiling, Ivan crept closer, intent on hearing the yelps he made when he was startled. But he was in for a disappointment. Alfred jumped slightly, but didn't make a noise when Ivan came up behind him and wrapped his arms around him._

"_I've missed you. I have a lovely evening planned," he murmured into the smaller man's ear. "And a nice new box of condoms to finish things off with."_

"_Condoms?" Alfred said quietly. "Well at least my brother hasn't taken complete leave of his senses."_

_Ivan quickly stepped back, cursing himself. "Matthew."_

"Ivan..."

Ivan blinked, shaking off the annoying memory. "Yes?"

Alfred stared intently at a spot on the wall. "Uh... thanks."

"For what?"

"For... you know... everything today."

Ivan smiled. "Think nothing of it."

Alfred yawned, curling up on the recliner. "Dunno what to say when my boyfriend forces thousands and thousands of bucks on me..."

Ivan stepped closer, leaning over to kiss Alfred's forehead. "Is that where you are going to sleep?"

"Yup."

"Interesting. Good night, then."

* * *

Alfred fidgeted in his chair, tugging at the noose tied around his neck. "I hate this thing."

"Surely you have worn a tie before..." Ivan said, peering curiously over the top of his menu.

"Yeah... but not much..."

"You look very nice in a suit."

"Thanks." Alfred turned back to his own menu. "I knew you'd pick a French place."

"I have heard this is a good restaurant."

"Why'd you pick a place you haven't been to before? If you wanna impress the boyfriend, take him to an awesome place you like!"

Ivan actually looked a bit guilty for some reason. "I suppose. But I wanted to try this place."

"You're Russian, dude."

"That does not mean I only eat Russian food."

"I don't know what any of this stuff is." Alfred tilted the menu around, as if that would help. "I'll have to call Francis. Or Mattie, he studies French..."

"It describes what the dishes are in English under the name."

"Yes, yes... If I end up with snail or frog I'm going to be very unhappy."

Their waiter—who looked like a pretentious douche to Alfred—returned with the bottle of wine Ivan had requested. The name meant nothing to Alfred, but he figured it was probably expensive. He had never been much of a wine drinker, but he'd give it a shot. The waiter poured their wine for them, which Alfred felt they really could have done themselves, then left them alone again.

Ivan took a sip, clearly enjoying the wine, judging by the semi-orgasmic expression. Alfred chuckled to himself, earning a confused look. "Nothing."

"No, it's all right." Ivan's smile returned. "I like when you laugh, even if it's at my expense."

"Aw..." Alfred felt warmth spread through him, as it still always did when Ivan said things like that. "You know, Ivan-"

"Vanya," he corrected."

Alfred blinked. "What?"

Ivan was staring intently at his wineglass. "My nickname."

Alfred stared at him a moment, smile stretching into a grin. "You're just now telling me your nickname?"

Ivan nodded. "I would like if you called me Vanya."

"Of course!" Alfred beamed. There was big intimidating Ivan, who may not laugh much but had a kind of creepy giggle, with piercing eyes and could make someone feel uneasy just by looking at them... looking bashful and asking Alfred to call him by his nickname.

"But not too much in public."

Alfred shook off his thoughts. "Huh?"

Ivan gave an awkward shrug. "You know... don't do it around people who would copy you. My older sister is the only other person who calls me that, and I'd rather keep it that way."

"Oh! Right." Alfred felt another wave of warmth and affection. "Whatever you say, Vanya. Oh! Speaking of your sisters, how are they?"

"They are good, thank you." Ivan did not speak much about them, really. And Alfred had yet to meet them. Well, the older one didn't live in America, so that made sense at least. "And your brother?"

"He's doing great!" Alfred grinned. Ivan had been right about Mattie; he hadn't gloated at all upon finding out about Alfred quitting. He had been too relieved and thrilled to be smug. And he was happily cutting back on expenses, not knowing his education was taken care of. Alfred still hadn't figured out how to tell him that the boyfriend who barely knew Matthew was paying for it...

He smiled fondly at Ivan for a moment, then perked up as he remembered. "I have something for you!"

"Something?" Ivan asked with that little smile he always wore.

"A gift!"

"Oh? What's the occasion?"

"No occasion." Alfred tugged the gift—nicely wrapped in the only non-specific-occasion paper he could find, purchased long ago for a young cousin's birthday, and featured teddy bears—out of his bag and handed it over. "I just wanted to get you a present."

"Well isn't that sweet." Ivan lightly shook the present near his ear, then tore into the paper.

Alfred chattered on while Ivan did that. "Because you don't like the cold, and it can get cold here, and I thought it'd be nice if you had something else you treasured like your scarf..."

Ivan lifted the box out of its wrappings and looked at it, smile growing strained. "A Snuggie."

"Yeah!" Alfred grinned at him. "And it's tiger striped! Like... like Siberian tigers."

Ivan studied the box. "Would not a robe serve the same purpose?"

Alfred's face fell. Didn't Ivan like it? "Oh. I guess..."

A brief flicker of horror crossed Ivan's face. "Ah! No, sorry, I mean... Thank you. I will wear it all winter. In the house."

Alfred brightened again. "Oh, it doesn't have to just be in the home, in the commercials the people-"

"Thank you, Al," Ivan repeated. He set the box aside and reached across the table to take Alfred's hand. "That was very thoughtful of you."

Alfred's smile grew. This date was going well!

And because he thought that, when he tugged his hand away from Ivan to pick up his wineglass, it knocked into Ivan's, sending the ruby liquid right onto the Russian's lap. On what was presumably a very expensive suit.

_Shit_.

"Oh god! I'm so sorry!" Alfred sprang out of his chair, intent on getting some damp napkins from the bathroom. But that was not meant to be either, as he ran straight into a waiter hard enough to send them tumbling to the floor. Alfred winced, feeling something slimy the waiter had been carrying now in his hair, dripping down his face.

The restaurant had gone very quiet as everyone stared at him. Alfred's face heated and he tried to will his body to die. He tried even harder to will his eyes to _not_ fill with hot, stinging tears. He stood, brushing himself off, not looking at Ivan. Oh god, their relationship had been going so well, so wonderfully, Alfred couldn't stand thinking of it ending, but what else would happen after he ruined an expensive suit and humiliated him...

He could see Ivan staring at him out of the corner of his eye, jaw hanging open. Alfred turned to him to apologize, but before he could, Ivan burst into laughter.

Alfred's own jaw dropped. Ivan was... laughing.

At him... But still laughing.

"Ivan?"

It was something of a disappointment that his laughter trailed off. "Come..." Ivan's smile fell as he turned to glare at the restaurant in general. The other patrons slowly looked away, returning to their own conversations. Alfred quickly apologized to the waiter he had run into before following Ivan to the restroom.

"Oh god..." Alfred said again. "I am so, so sorry, the evening was going so well, I'm such a-"

"Shh." Ivan glanced down at his ruined clothes. "I have a good dry cleaner."

"Can he get that out?" Alfred asked in a small voice, daring to hope.

"If he knows what's good for him."

Alfred gave a wavering smile. "I hope so. Oh, eugh, what the hell is that..." He wiped at the slime on his face, grimacing.

"It would appear to be ganache and berry sauce," Ivan said. "You have cake on your head."

"Oh. That's not so bad."

"No." Ivan leaned over to lick Alfred's cheek. "You taste good."

Alfred stared at him, utterly baffled. "Why aren't you angry?"

"Should I be?" Ivan tilted his head. "That was funny."

"Oh." Alfred couldn't help but smile as he remembered. He had done it! He had reached his goal. Too bad it wasn't something less humiliating...

"You thought I would be mad?" Ivan tugged Alfred into a hug, apparently not caring about the cake goo he was getting on himself. "You are so precious. If anything, I love you more."

Alfred froze, as did the rest of the world around him. "You what?" They had not said those words to each other before. In fact, nobody had ever said that to Alfred, outside of his family.

"I love you."

Alfred drew back to look at Ivan, eyes wide and heart thudding against his ribs. Ivan loved him... Did he love Ivan back? He had never been in love before. What were some of the stereotypical symptoms? Thinking of the other person all the time, wanting to be with them forever, rapid pulse and butterflies just from the thought of them, a spark from their touch, the desire to make them happy above all else...

Alfred smiled. "I love you, too."

They embraced again, but only for a moment. Ivan's blasted phone rang. Alfred whined, wondering how many dates would end this way. Too many did already. Even when Alfred was working too much, it had never interrupted the free time he actually got...

Ivan gave him an apologetic look as he drew back, answering his phone. He listened for a moment, expression stony. "Thank you for telling me, Toris, I will take care of it."

"What?" Alfred didn't want Ivan to go to work now. "Do you have to take care of it soon? Is it an emergency? Can I come?"

"I am sorry." Ivan leaned forward to place a tender kiss on his lips. "I wish I could stay and help clean cake off you, but I really need to deal with this now."

"Okay. Can I come along next time you have work to do?"

Ivan looked torn. "I, ah... I don't think that's possible."

"Oh. Well, get going." Alfred gave what he hoped was a brave smile. "They need you."

"Thank you." Ivan kissed him again, then hurried off. His eyes had looked a little wild, Alfred wondered just what sort of emergency it was...

* * *

Thank god for Toris' warning. Ivan stepped outside the restaurant just in time. His blood froze in his veins as he realized how close that had been.

"Brother," Natalia said, voice as polite as it was frosty. "What a coincidence. I was just coming to see you."

Ivan cleared his throat, forcing his voice to remain calm. "And I was just leaving. What brings you here?" He crossed his arms over the coat that hid his stained suit.

Natalia apparently did not feel the need for subterfuge. "Who is he?"

Ivan, though, did feel that need. "Who?"

"The one you're here with." Her eyes narrowed, and Ivan swallowed thickly. "Who. Is. He?"

"Just a friend." Ivan scowled at her. "I am allowed to dine with companions."

"Then why don't I know him? When you wish to dine with a companion, you choose one of _us_. Nobody knows this person."

"I do not appreciate you spying on me. Or threatening my friends just because I have a life outside of... us."

Natalia's eyes flashed dangerously. "Brother, I-"

"No." Ivan's frown deepened. "You go home right now." Maybe he could still get back to his date. Or maybe not, it might be safer to just leave...

"I also have a message to deliver."

"What?" Why couldn't she just leave?

"It is from the Dollhouse owner. The one I helped out."

"Oh, Mr. Beilschmidt?" What the hell did he want?

"Yes, him. He is opening a new... club. The Red Rose."

Ivan sighed. "And he wants our protection?"

"No... Since it's in a neutral area, he wants all of us to be there for opening night."

"He wants our patronage..." Ivan stared at her in disbelief.

"That's right." Natalia scowled. "I request that you not go."

"Oh?"

"I do not want you ogling those women!"

Oh. "I assure you, Nata, I would not ogle-"

"Brother!"

Ivan sighed again. "We'll see. If we prove to be good customers, he might owe us two favors..."

"_Brother!_"

"Business partners are a good thing to have. I promise, Nata, whatever happens, I will not ogle a single woman."

It took some more arguing, but Ivan finally managed to convince Natalia to return home. Though he was only able to do so by accompanying her, so any hope of returning to his interrupted date was dashed. But at least he would always have the memory. If he hadn't worried about others finding it, he'd have taken a picture with his phone. Alfred, sprawled on the floor with a cake on his head! Ivan had felt utterly horrible for laughing, especially with how upset the boy looked, but he just couldn't help himself...

Now he just needed to find out if his suit could be saved.

And he needed to find a way to wear a Snuggie without anybody seeing him and losing all respect for him. Because Ivan had to lie to Alfred about everything else, he'd be damned if he would lie about using his gift, too.


	9. Chapter 9

_Oh wow, 100 reviews! Thanks so much, everyone, I'm glad you're enjoying it. :D_

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

They had already lost their shirts somewhere along the way to Alfred's bedroom, and it was a miracle they had made it without tripping or hurting themselves as they made out the entire trip from front door to room. Without breaking away from his thorough tonguing of Ivan's neck, Alfred shoved discarded clothes and comics off his bed before they collapsed atop it. The bed was not big enough for the both of them to sleep on, but they did not need that much room for the time being.

Ivan kissed, licked, and nipped his way down Alfred's chest, marveling as he always did at the sleek muscles, at the beauty of the body beneath him. He flicked his tongue across Alfred's belly button and moved lower, feeling Alfred's breath hitch. Ivan brought his fingers up to help unfasten Alfred's pants, while the boy reached over to fumble in the nightstand.

"Oh, fuck."

"In a moment," Ivan said. "Patience."

"No, I mean... empty."

Ivan looked up to see Alfred staring forlornly into the empty condom box. "Oh."

"There's more in the bathroom."

"Wait here. Please remove your pants while I am gone."

Hoping Alfred was right about Matthew spending the night elsewhere ("With Francis!" Alfred had ranted. "I knew it wasn't going to be just a one-time thing! What does that perv think he's doing with my pure innocent little brother!" Ivan had politely reminded him that Matthew was older. Alfred had demanded to know whose side he was on) Ivan walked quickly into the small bathroom. He rummaged through the medicine cabinet, retrieving a few boxes. Studied them a moment, lips pursed, before selecting one and returning to Alfred, who was delightfully naked.

"Here." Ivan shoved the box at Alfred.

"All right, thanks," Alfred said. "Oh, wait. You got the wrong box. These are, uh, you know... ours."

Trying hard not to think about twins sharing a box of condoms, Ivan nodded. "I know."

"So why... ohh!" A grin stretched across Alfred's face. "Ohhh."

"Well..." Ivan coughed. "In all the times we have been together, I've always... you haven't..."

"And that's okay!" Alfred said quickly. "It's fine that you prefer topping, nothing wrong with that, I love being on the receiving end with you, you don't have to do something you don't want-"

"I want to," Ivan said quietly, still not quite meeting Alfred's eyes. "I, uh... it's just that I've never..."

"What... never?" Alfred said with a little gasp. "Ever? You're a backdoor virgin?"

That phrasing did not help. Ivan just nodded, staring at the starry bedding.

"Sorry." Alfred sat up, leaning his head against Ivan. "Don't feel like you have to, Vanya, it's okay if you don't-"

"I want to," Ivan repeated. "I've just... never trusted anyone enough before."

Alfred looked up at him again, expression softening. He tilted Ivan's face down to kiss him, then gently pushed Ivan back on the bed.

"Have you done this before?" Ivan asked as Alfred tugged his pants off.

"Of course I have," Alfred scoffed.

"Ah, I meant... with someone who..."

"Oh, have I popped someone's cherry before? Well, no." Alfred gave him a lopsided smile. "But I remember my first time, so I think I can—oh!" Alfred finished stripping Ivan and hopped off the bed. "Gosh, we can't do it like this!"

"Why not?"

"You should have an awesome romantic first time! My first time was in a smelly little college dorm room."

"You don't go to college. Was it a friend of Matthew's?"

"No, this was a while back, I was still in high school at the time."

Interesting. "Well, your room is a lot nicer than a smelly college dorm."

"Barely!" And Alfred—dear sweet naked Alfred, erection still throbbing eagerly—started cleaning. He shoved the comic books onto a shelf, hung the clothes in the closet, threw food and candy wrappers in the trash can, and even started picking up the smaller crumbs that a vacuum would be more suited to cleaning up.

"Al..."

"Hold on," Alfred said, and left the room.

Ivan couldn't help but dwell on the fact that if he had either just done things the usual way, or not told Alfred it was his first time and simply put up with any pain that might result, they would be in the middle of sex already. But that thought was quickly overwhelmed by the fact that his horny teenage boyfriend was putting off sex to make sure it was perfect, and he decided he was too touched to care about the delay.

Alfred eventually returned with an armload of candles of all shapes and sizes. He scattered them around the room on all available surfaces, then carefully lit them one by one. He turned on some low music and dimmed the lights, leaving them bathed in the flickering, golden glow.

Alfred returned to the bed, gently crawling atop Ivan. "Well?"

"Perfect." Ivan tugged Alfred down for a kiss. The very fact that he was on his back with someone else on top of him was incredibly erotic. It felt almost wrong, which added to the thrill.

"Hey!" Ivan said when Alfred started sucking on a spot on his neck.

"Relax." He could feel Alfred smile against his skin. "Nobody will see anything here."

"True."

After marking Ivan, Alfred resumed exploring his body, as if that were a new experience. Ivan was so busy floating in ecstasy, he almost didn't notice Alfred warming some lube between his hands. Ivan swallowed. "Oh."

"Relax," Alfred murmured, settling himself between Ivan's legs. "Think you'd be more comfortable like this or on your tummy?"

"I want to see you."

"Back it is. Spread your legs, please."

Ivan felt a sudden wave of bashfulness. Which made no sense at all, Alfred was intimately familiar with every inch of his body already. He let his knees fall apart, hoping he wasn't blushing like a... well, like a more virginal virgin.

"Just relax," Alfred murmured.

Ivan was plenty relaxed. Or he was, until a slippery finger pushed into him. He hissed and tensed, which did not help matters at all.

"I know," Alfred said, voice still soothing. "Relax... You okay?"

"This is weird," Ivan said.

"I know."

Ivan squirmed a little, trying to grow accustomed to the new sensation. It helped immensely when Alfred started doing interesting things with his other hand, though he hissed again when a second finger was slipped in. "You really like this?"

"Yup!" Alfred said cheerfully. "C'mon, don't talk like you're all inexperienced. You know the things you do to me that drive me crazy."

"Well get to it," Ivan teased.

"Geez! Give me a minute, I'm just trying to make it feel better when we get to the fun part. And it's not like I have a road map to your prostate."

"It's in there."

"Well I wasn't doubting."

Ivan winced at the bizarre burn of being stretched. "How lo—ahhhh!" His head smacked back against the headboard when a wave of pleasure surged through him.

"Found it," Alfred sang.

"I noticed..."

"Keep your head down on the pillow. Don't hurt yourself." Alfred got back to work, humming. He continued to brush against that spot, making Ivan forget all about the pain.

"All right. That's as good as we're going to get."

"Hmm?" Ivan snapped out of his daze. "Ah, yes."

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Alfred said, abruptly serious.

Ivan nodded. "Please."

"All right."

Ivan let his eyes drift shut, relaxing further as he heard Alfred rustling around, getting ready. He felt hands on him. He gripped the blanket in his fists, biting his lip as he felt Alfred's cock slowly push in.

"You okay?" Alfred said. "Be honest."

"It's weird and it hurts," Ivan said. He felt utterly foolish. He had dealt with the pain of bullets and knives, and here he was whining about something people did for pleasure. "Keep going."

"Okay."

Ivan grimaced as his lover slid the rest of the way in. He looked up into Alfred's face, unable to help but smile at the expression of ecstasy there. "Good?"

Alfred chuckled breathlessly. "Marvelous, of course. You? Still hurt?"

"Yes. But it's good because it's you."

"God that's corny."

"Just move."

"Yes, sir." Alfred started to gently thrust into him.

Ivan grunted, reaching up to pull Alfred closer to himself, wanting to touch him.

"I'm sorry," Alfred whispered. "I'm trying."

"You're doing fine," Ivan said. "You—ah!"

"Ah ha!" Alfred grinned.

Ivan groaned as pleasure warred with pain. "You... ahh..." And Alfred kept hitting his prostate, and soon was stroking Ivan's cock at the same time. The pain did not cease, but he found it harder to care.

"Y-you're so beautiful," Alfred eventually said as they trembled together, both on the edge.

"Me?" Ivan said.

"You."

Ivan looked up at Alfred, sweaty and shaking and looking more golden than usual in the candlelight, flames reflecting in the glasses he hadn't bothered removing. "So are you."

"Oh god..." Alfred's body shook and his face scrunched up as he orgasmed. "V-Vanya..." Ivan didn't even wait for it to pass before tugging him close for another kiss. Alfred gave a few more shallow thrusts, pumping Ivan until he finally came as well. Ivan arched back into the pillow, moaning as the world spun out of focus for a moment.

A quick clean up later, and they were pressed close together on the bed that was not big enough for them both. It was a rare moment where neither of them had work to get to, and Ivan was content to lay in Alfred's arms and enjoy doing nothing else. It was so rare, he was kind of surprised when time passed and his phone didn't ring, and an inebriated Matthew and Francis didn't burst in.

"Was I okay?" Alfred asked after a while.

"Hmm?" Ivan said, close to sleep. "Oh, yes. I'm glad I waited for you."

"Aww..."

"But maybe we should get up. That is a lot of candles burning."

"Oh, yeah." Alfred pulled away from Ivan, standing. "I'll put 'em out."

"Mm." Ivan reluctantly sat up, and... and was very glad Alfred wasn't looking at him and missed his grimace of pain. Well shit. He probably wouldn't go home for a while...

* * *

Alfred glanced down at his watch again with a sigh. What was taking Mattie so long? Oh well, it was nice just being able to meet him after class and do something together. Alfred had found an awesome movie to see, something about a vengeful ghost. He was lounging on a bench at the edge of campus, reading the comic section of the newspaper. The occasional student passed by, chatting with a friend or lost in their own little world.

Alfred once again looked up to see if he could spot a blond head, and instead he saw something else. A pretty girl was seated against a wall, and she looked thoroughly unhappy. She had long pale hair, and was dressed up like a doll, right down to the bow in her hair. She wiped her eyes, shoulders shaking slightly. Alfred felt a bit of righteousness blossom at the sight. He wasn't the sort of person who could just sit by and let a girl cry! Or boy, but that wasn't the point.

He looked over at her again, and the girl seemed to notice him. She gave a wavering smile, then turned away.

Alfred stood, eager to find out what was wrong and see if he could help.

"I'm here, Al! Geez, you don't have to give up and leave already."

"Huh?" Alfred turned to face his brother. "How'd you do that?"

Matthew blinked. "Do what?"

"Sneak up on me?"

"I just walked up to you. It's not my fault you always fail to notice me."

Alfred snorted. "Well it just so happens, I was going to..." He trailed off as he turned back toward the girl. Or, rather, the empty wall she had been sitting against. Where had she gone? "Oh. Never mind, I guess."

"All right, let's go." Matthew linked arms with Alfred and the pair headed for the bus stop, Matthew occasionally trying to talk Alfred out of the particular movie he had selected.

* * *

_Nooo, story's not gonna be sex sex sex all the time. XD _


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

Ivan glanced through the peephole and froze. What was _he_ doing there? He plastered a smile back on and tugged the door open. "Al! What a surprise."

"Hi!" Alfred promptly flung himself at Ivan, hugging him tight. "I thought I'd surprise you. I'm glad it worked!"

"Well, yes, I wasn't expecting you." Poor Alfred probably wondered why he was never invited over, why he had only been to Ivan's house the day they met. But there was just too much Ivan would have to hide... "Um, please, come in. Wait right here, I need to do something."

Ivan didn't wait for an answer. He hurried to where Eduard was counting a recently acquired case of money.

Eduard glanced up in surprise. "Boss?"

Ivan forced his flustered expression back into his usual neutral. "Eduard. We have a guest. Who absolutely must not find out what I do."

Eduard raised an eyebrow. "You're entertaining company who aren't supposed to know we're ma-"

"Yes. Let everyone else know. And try and hide evidence..."

A slow smile spread across Eduard's face. "Is it your mysterious boyfriend?"

Ivan scowled. "What makes you think I even have a-"

"We know you."

"Just do what I say. And don't mention anything about a boyfriend! Especially not to..."

Eduard shuddered. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Ivan nodded, and returned to the entrance, where Alfred was... where had he found the _pipe_? Ivan never left that laying around by the door! "Al!"

"Why in the world do you have a faucet?" Alfred laughed, tapping it against his palm. "How old. Look how rusty it is!"

Ivan grimaced. "Yes, rust! It is rusty. Please put it down, it is very old."

"You keep odd antiques." Alfred set it aside.

"Indeed." Ivan took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. If he was careful, and didn't overreact to anything, they should get through this. "Come in and sit down. Would you like a drink?"

"Nah, I'm good. Thanks."

Ivan led the way into the sitting room, keeping an eye out for anything that needed a quick hiding. To his relief, no weapons or satchels of cash had been left laying around (the latter of which he could more easily lie his way out of, at least). Alfred made himself comfortable, looking around with an intrigued expression.

"You seem kinda freaked out," Alfred said. "Did I show up at a bad time?"

"No no," Ivan said, sitting down across from him. "Just surprised. I have a lot of other people over, but I usually do."

"Well good." Alfred smiled. "I wouldn't want to think about you in this bigass place all alone."

Ivan returned his smile. "Are you sure you aren't thirsty?"

Alfred laughed. "If you are, go get something. I wouldn't mind."

Ivan stood back up and headed for the kitchen, picking a stray gun up as discretely as he could on the way.

* * *

God, what a _place_. Alfred gazed around in wonder at all the tiny little wealthy details that Ivan probably didn't even notice. He settled back in the leather chair—leather! Insanely soft leather—and waited for Ivan to return. What all people did he have visiting, anyway? Ivan never spoke much of any friends of his, just his sisters, only one of whom lived in the country.

As if on cue, a few heads poked into the doorway, watching Alfred curiously. A couple were young men, maybe a few years older than himself, and the other was a boy. Alfred waved politely at them, and they stepped in.

"Hello." He smiled. "I'm Alfred Jones. Are you friends of Ivan's?"

They exchanged a look. "That's right," the one with longish brown hair said. "We're friends of his. I'm Toris, this is Eduard, and the kid there is Raivis."

Alfred nodded politely at them, thinking that one of the names rang a bell. He grinned when it hit him. "Oh, Toris! I remember you."

"You do?" he said with a friendly smile. "I don't think I-"

"You were the pepperoni and mushroom! It's because of you I met Ivan!" He pounced on Toris to hug him.

"Ah... y-yes?" Toris awkwardly patted Alfred on the back. "You were... the pizza deliverer?"

"That's right!"

"I never did get that pizza..."

"I ate it," Ivan said from another doorway.

Alfred grinned over at him. Ivan was leaning against the arched doorway, watching them with an unreadable expression. "The whole thing?"

"Toris was called away right before you showed up. I didn't want it to go to waste, and I was hungry."

"I'd wondered about that," Toris said. "Well, it's very nice to meet you, Mr. Jones."

"Al's fine!"

"Of course, Mr. Jones."

"Are you really banging the boss?" the youngest, Raivis, piped up. Alfred gaped at him—how old _was_ he?—and both Eduard and Toris hissed at him to shut up.

"I believe you all have things to do," Ivan said with a pained look.

"But we should do something some time," Alfred added, smiling at Toris and Eduard.

"That would be nice," Eduard said, nodding. Ivan herded the trio out before Alfred was able to make any plans with them, though.

"Boss?" He poked Ivan in the ribs. "Isn't that cute."

"Kids," Ivan said with a shrug. "The things he calls me..."

"Can-"

"No," Ivan said quickly. "You may not. If I hear 'boss' from you, you will get a big love bite where everybody will see it and snicker."

Alfred pouted. "How'd you know that's what I was going to ask?"

"I know you."

"Maybe I was going to ask for a kiss."

"Were you?"

Alfred looked away with a sheepish smile.

"Ah, Al..." Ivan took his hand. His smile almost seemed sad. "You cannot lie to me, can you..."

"Of course not!"

Alfred didn't get to find out what Ivan was going to say next, for a girl walked in just then. Alfred wondered just how many people, exactly, Ivan had staying with him. She had long hair and was dressed almost like an old fashioned maid, and...

"Hey!" Alfred stared at her. "I remember you!" What a weird coincidence! "Are you feeling better?"

The girl just stared at Alfred, jaw hanging open. Seeing him again must have surprised her, too! Then she turned and bolted out of the room.

"Well that was weird..." Alfred scratched his head, taken aback by her flight. Was he scary now? "I was just trying to be nice. But what are the odds?"

A hand fell heavily on his shoulder, and Alfred winced. "Ivan?"

"You have seen her before?" There was something... off about Ivan's voice.

"Oh, yeah! It's the weirdest coincidence!" He briefly described the time he had seen her crying at Matthew's school.

"I see." Ivan cleared his throat. "I should go talk with her. Please wait here, all right?"

"Oh." Alfred shrugged. "Yeah, sure. Make sure she's feeling better!"

Ivan smiled, still looking... off. "Oh, I will. Wait here." He stormed off, and Alfred had the strangest feeling that he should be worrying about the girl.

* * *

Ivan flung the door to Natalia's room open, pleased to see that she had indeed taken refuge there. If 'pleased' could be used in his current state, which was similar to the rage he had felt when he had thought Francis was forcing Alfred to kiss him. But instead of hot fury fueling his rage, it was icy terror. "Natalia!"

She looked up at him like he was a car barreling down on her in the road. It wasn't often that their roles were reversed, but now she was the one quivering in fear. "B-brother!"

"Why were you waiting for Alfred?" Ivan stepped closer, backing Natalia into the corner.

"I wasn't going to hurt him!" she said quickly. A lie. "I only wanted to meet him, brother!"

"Oh?" Ivan wrapped a hand around her slender, pale throat. Not squeezing, just resting there. "People usually walk up to those they want to meet, and say hello." He narrowed his eyes at his trembling sister. "And do you think I have only just met you? You have cried nothing but crocodile tears since you were five."

"B-broth-"

"Stay away from him." Ivan squeezed, just a little, and her eyes widened. "I mean it. You will not harm him. Anything you do to him, will be done to you in return."

"You would kill me?" Natalia whispered.

His stomach lurched. Of course he had known that was her intent, but... He squeezed some more. "Who said anything about killing, hm?"

Natalia whimpered.

"Do I make myself clear?"

"Y-yes."

"Good." Ivan released her and stepped back, staring coldly while she sank to the floor.

"Brother..." Natalia reached up to rub her throat. He hadn't thought he had squeezed so hard. "I... I'm family!"

"I know," Ivan said. "If you weren't, you would be dead already." He turned and swept out the door, slamming it behind him. He waited until he had turned a few corners before he paused, sinking to his knees in the middle of the hallway.

So close... she had come so close! If Matthew hadn't shown up when he did, and Alfred went to her... he would be dead. Oh god, _Alfred _had almost been _killed_. Ivan thought he might be sick.

And he was in danger still. Ivan had to keep Alfred away... Oh, she would disregard the threat if she was properly enraged. Natalia probably didn't know the extent of their relationship; if she were to find out...

Ivan had to keep Alfred away. He stood, trying to regain his composure again before returning to the sitting room. He waited until he was certain all traces of fury and terror were gone, smiling pleasantly as he walked in. "Al."

"Hey!" Alfred bounced back to his feet, having been lounging on the leather chair. "How is she?"

Ivan hesitated. He just wasn't in the mood for more elaborate lies. In this case, something a little closer to the truth might be more effective... Not the entire truth, but close. "Not good. Please, Alfred, you cannot come here anymore. Unless I say it's okay."

Alfred's face metamorphosed from pleased to distressed. "What'd I do?"

"Nothing." Ivan tugged his lover close. "You have done nothing. It is her. She hates you."

"She what?" Alfred pulled back, eyes wide. "_Why_? Because I didn't talk to her that day?"

Ivan shook his head. "She hated you before then. I have mentioned her to you before. She is my younger sister Natalia."

"Your sister!" Alfred's eyes somehow grew wider. "The clingy one?"

"That is the one. She is weird and obsessed with me. She hates you because you are my lover. She would hate any lover."

"So what was she doing-"

"Something not pleasant." Ivan took a deep breath. "I don't know what, exactly. Maybe have you beat up." Which was true enough. Though she would have done it herself, until Alfred stopped moving...

"That cute little girl?" Alfred frowned. "You think she had some thugs there to jump me?"

"It is entirely possible. She can be a little unstable at times, especially when it involves me."

"Man..." Alfred rubbed the back of his neck. "I guess it's a good thing Mattie showed up to distract me when he did, huh?"

He had no idea how good of a thing. "Yes."

Alfred made a face. "Man," he said again. "So is she all into... like, incest?" He made a worse face when Ivan nodded. "She does know you like dudes, right?"

"She does not consider that important."

"Well, all right. I won't stop by unannounced anymore."

"Thank you." Ivan pulled him into another hug. "And if you ever even think you see her again..."

"I'll stay away."

"Good." Ivan sighed, wondering if it would be better if he stayed or left the house. Probably left, it wasn't like Natalia was the type to take it out on innocent targets, living or inanimate, if left alone. "Come on. I'll take you someplace nice. Do you want to go dancing?"

Alfred nodded. "We can swing by my place and grab my fake leather pants and-"

"Real dancing, love."

* * *

Matthew dropped the stack of books onto the counter with a groan, placing his student ID on top. "These classes are murder this quarter."

The cashier gave him an understanding smile, ringing the books up. Matthew watched, stomach falling as the price rose. He peeked into his wallet, groaning again. He wouldn't be able to buy lunch! He was a couple dollars short of the total and dug into his change, pulling out what random coins he could.

"Oh!" The cashier looked at his ID again. "I thought you seemed familiar."

Matthew sighed. _Probably because I've been in here five thousand times,_ he thought. A cashier couldn't be expected to remember every customer, but _really_. He watched, growing a little confused as she typed something into the computer. Nodding to herself, she handed the money back.

"What's the problem?"

"No problem! You just don't owe us anything." She smiled. "Didn't you know?"

"Uh..."

"It's all taken care of." She printed out a receipt and handed it over. "Would you like a bag?"

"Uh, sure." Matthew picked his ID up and stared at it. It was definitely his. How could she have made a mistake?

What in the world?


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

Alfred yawned, eyes drooping, face resting on his palm. He hated slow nights. He was tempted to buy the few customers that mingled around the bar a round of drinks himself, just to have something to do.

He perked up in excitement, all ready to go, when the door swung open. He deflated slightly at the sight of the very familiar blond who strolled in. But not too much, it wasn't often his brother visited him at work.

"Well look who's here!" Alfred said with a grin. "The most handsome man in all the world. Can I see some ID?"

"Ha." Matthew sat at the bar, and Alfred poured him a soda. "Last time I was here, I could barely get to the bar."

"Yeah, sometimes it seems like there's no in-between."

Matthew glanced around at the drinking customers, then sipped at his own drink. "So a funny thing happened. I was wondering if you knew anything about it."

"What's up, bro?" Alfred leaned against the bar, stifling another yawn.

"I thought you said you weren't exhausted anymore!"

"Doesn't solve boredom on slow nights." Alfred shrugged. "So what's up?"

"Oh." Matthew pulled a receipt out of his pocket and shoved it at Alfred. "That."

He blinked at his twin, then held the receipt up to study. "You bought books. They sound dreadful."

"And expensive," Matthew added.

"Yeah."

"Yet it didn't cost me a dime."

"Oh." Alfred froze. "Ohh..."

Matthew's eyes narrowed. "So you do know about that?"

"Heh, right." Alfred tossed the scrap of paper down beside Matthew's mug. "I just wasn't sure how to tell you. Even though it's good news! Not something bad. Just kinda... Idunno. Weird?"

"Alfred, why are my school supplies paid for?"

Alfred glanced toward the nearest customer, who was staring at a cute chick in the corner and not paying them the slightest attention. Probably. "Not just supplies. All of school."

"_All_ of school?" Matthew stared at him, as if Alfred had just announced he wasn't actually from Earth. "Like, all of it? Like, someone's giving me a hundred grand or so?"

"Like a scholarship," Alfred said, nodding.

"I didn't win any scholarships! From _where_?"

Alfred picked up a rag and a mug that really didn't need cleaning. "Ivan."

"What?"

"Ivan. My Ivan."

Matthew tilted his glasses up to rub his eyes. "Your boyfriend is paying for me to go to school... How?"

"Pff, he can afford it." Matthew didn't say anything, and Alfred finally glanced up. "I told you he was insanely rich, didn't I?"

"Nooo..."

"I'm sure I did."

"No..."

"Oh." Alfred coughed. "Well he is. Really really rich."

"And you... asked him to-"

"No!" Alfred exclaimed, gaining the attention of a couple patrons. He hunched over with a sheepish look, waiting for them to lose interest. "No, of course not. He kind of insisted. It was part of his forcing me to quit one of my jobs deal."

Matthew's expression was growing a little panicked. Alfred imagined that's what he looked like when he had that conversation with Ivan. "We can't let him do that!"

"I know. If you want to try arguing with him, go ahead. It isn't possible."

Matthew scowled. "Oh? Your boyfriend always gets his way?"

"Eh! Nooo, it's not like that! Normally we agree on things and, you know, normal couple stuff. But if he really decides on something, there's no arguing with him. He was determined to get me to quit a job after I collapsed and-"

"After you what?"

"Oh. Heh. Different story, Matt. Anyway, yeah. He's insisted on paying for your education."

Matthew gaped. "We can't let him do that!"

"I know..."

"I barely know him!"

"I know." Alfred wasn't really sure what to say. "I don't know what to do, though. It _is_ helpful, and he'd be mad if we said no."

Matthew stared at him for another long moment, expression morphing from freaked out to horrified to helpless acceptance (or so Alfred chose to believe). "God..." Matthew rested his face on the bar. "This is crazy."

Alfred patted his head. "I know."

"And you're keeping things from me..."

"Oh." Alfred flinched guiltily. "God, I'm sorry. I was going to tell you about this—I mean, it's not like it was going to stay secret—but I wasn't sure how."

"And were you planning on telling me you collapsed?"

"Um. No. But you'd have worried!"

"No kidding..." Matthew straightened up. "I can't believe you never told me he was rich. You've told me about his eyes and his smile like fifty thousand times."

Alfred shrugged. "It wasn't important."

"You've told me about parts of his body I didn't need to know about fifty thousand times..."

"You seemed interested at the time!"

Matthew smiled, and Alfred finally relaxed. He wasn't mad! And he wasn't going to argue. "Well, mystery solved, I guess... I should get back home."

Alfred nodded. "Seeya in the morning, Mattie. Oh, score, someone wants a refill."

A man approached the bar with empty mug in hand, setting it down. He paused to stare at the brothers.

"Nah, you're cool." Alfred grinned. "Not seeing double, you can still drink."

* * *

How had this happened? _How?_ What deity had Ivan pissed off?

Okay, so he did know how this had started. Alfred had met Toris and Eduard and liked them, that was how it had started. And they had liked Alfred back. And tried getting everyone together to hang out from time to time.

Then some future plans got out where Alfred could overhear, which Ivan would have really preferred he not.

Alfred wanted to go with him.

The argument was now a blur in Ivan's mind, but Alfred had somehow won.

And now Ivan found himself confronting Gilbert Beilschmidt. It was time once again for The Talk. "You owe me two favors."

The albino cringed. "Yeah, I remember agreeing to that, because I am apparently insane..."

"I am calling one in."

"Already?" Gilbert straightened, blinking. "Well, all right. What is it?"

I am here for your... grand opening."

"I can see that."

Ivan cleared his throat. "I am here with a... friend. Who is not associated with _us._ He knows nothing about what we do. It will stay that way." How many times was he going to have this conversation in the future? "I will do whatever it takes to keep him from finding out," he added.

Gilbert would probably have paled, if he really could. "I'm not gonna tell him!"

"It is not you strolling up and telling him I worry about. It is idle comments made that he overhears. That is how he ended up here in the first place..."

"I won't say a thing! Tonight, it's all business." Gilbert turned to leave, but paused to glance back at Ivan. "Then we'll be back down to one favor again?"

Ivan nodded.

"Right! My ol' perfectly legal friend Ivan Braginsky is here to see my awesome club!"

"Beilschmidt..."

Gilbert hurried off.

Now Ivan just had to worry about someone else in the club recognizing him. He would just have to hope that men in there would not be interested in chatting with the other patrons. Oh, and he just had to worry about Gilbert being an idiot and slipping up.

Ivan did not like Alfred getting more involved in his work. It was getting to be scary and nerve-wracking. The only reason his little secret had lasted as long as it had was because Alfred was so cheerfully naive, but how long until Alfred was confronted by undeniable evidence?

"Come on." Ivan collected Alfred, hoping to get the night over with as quickly as possible.

Why had he agreed to this again?

Why did Alfred have to be _excited_?

"Yeah, let's go!" Alfred tugged on his sleeve. "I don't want to miss the show."

Ivan coughed. "It's... it's ongoing."

"Oh yeah? Well, I haven't been to a place like this before."

"Good!"

"You're the one taking me." Alfred grinned.

"It was your idea. I'm only going for a... friend."

Alfred laughed, clinging to Ivan's arm as they walked into The Red Rose. True to its name, roses and the color red in general featured prominently in the décor. It made Ivan wonder just what The Dollhouse looked like. It looked somewhat higher class than the average strip club, with leather chairs and tasteful decoration, at least.

"Right this way, boys," Gilbert said, reappearing at their side. "Welcome to my awesome new club! And who is this?"

Ivan gave him his best 'stay the hell away' look, but Alfred cheerfully introduced himself. "Ivan has the coolest friends! Are those your real eyes?"

"No," Gilbert said smoothly. "I lost mine in battle. These came from a poor white rabbit who should have stayed out of the road."

"Really?"

"They're my eyes." Gilbert patted the boy on the shoulder. "I saved the best seats in the house for you!" He gestured to a table right beside the stage. Great. They sat down in the offered seats, and Ivan glared Gilbert away.

"So do I stuff dollars down their underwear?" Alfred asked, looking up at the nearby dancing girls. "Or is this place more classy?"

Ivan shook his head. "I don't know. I would imagine tips are appreciated."

"Oh hey, she's taking her top off!"

"Indeed." Ivan eyed his lover. "You seem to be enjoying this, considering..."

Alfred winked. "Don't be silly. You say you like sunflowers, right? And think they're pretty?"

Ivan blinked. "Yes?"

"Doesn't mean you want to date and screw them." Alfred turned back to the stage.

Okay then. A waitress soon stopped by their table, and Ivan ordered his usual.

"I'll have, uh... Coke," Alfred said.

Ivan stopped the waitress before she could leave. "Don't be silly. Bring him a beer."

Alfred coughed. "Um, you know I'm not-"

"Don't worry about that."

It didn't take much persuasion. "All right, beer it is!" Alfred grinned at Ivan. "Man, I can't wait until my next birthday."

Ivan returned his grin with a smile. "You have one more birthday after that until you can legally drink everywhere."

"Oh, I know. I just can't wait until it's summer."

"Al..."

"Hmm?"

Ivan shook his head helplessly again. "You are cute."

Alfred gave him another grin, then turned his attention back to the stage. He waved some money in the air, luring one of the strippers closer.

It was going to be a long night. Ivan was starting to regret waiving one of Gilbert's favors.

So the night wore on, involving a lot of gyrating hips and bouncing breasts, but at least it did not involve anyone noticing Ivan. Gilbert occasionally swung by to check on them, but he seemed more interested in chatting with Alfred. Not that that was a good thing, but better than chatting with Ivan and letting things slip, at least.

God help him, they seemed to be getting along.

Ivan was almost glad when Alfred started to appear bored, the novelty of visiting a strip club finally wearing. He was just about to suggest they leave when Alfred stood up. "You want to go?"

"Let's do something crazy," Alfred said.

That could not be good. "What? No."

"Come on." Alfred tugged Ivan up. "You need to be a little crazy once in a while."

"No. How many beers have you had?"

"Not that many! Don't you like spontaneity?" Alfred tugged on Ivan's arm.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Come on." And to Ivan's horror, Alfred dragged him onto the stage. Grinning, Alfred started dancing with one of the girls, who simply giggled at the intrusion.

"We can't do this," Ivan hissed. "I'm leaving. Get your ass down from there! Everyone's looking."

"The bouncers aren't making a move, and I do believe that's Gilbert laughing." Alfred laughed, himself, as he danced.

Oh good. Gilbert was laughing. Ivan was going to have to kill him...

And one of the other strippers had danced closer to Ivan and was grinning at him, reaching out to stroke his scarf. "Al," he said sharply.

"You're already up here and being stared at," Alfred said. "May as well make the most of it and have a little fun!" He turned toward Ivan. "If it makes you more comfortable, you can dance with me."

"You are impossible..." Ivan attempted to dance with his enthusiastic lover, stiff in his awareness of eyes on him. How had one of the most dangerous men in the city allowed himself to be coerced into dancing on stage in a strip club? And at some point, Alfred maneuvered him into dancing with the girl, who seemed only too happy to gyrate closer to Ivan.

"All right..." Ivan said finally, tugging Alfred away from his dance partner. "These men aren't paying to watch us."

Alfred beamed at him, allowing himself to be hauled offstage. "Yeah, that's enough." And he promptly hugged Ivan.

"What's that for?" Ivan had to ask.

"I never thought that would actually work. You're so great!"

"Ah." Ivan laughed. "I don't know what you've done to me, Al..."

"I should offer you boys a job!" Gilbert said after appearing beside them again, grinning widely. He flinched away at Ivan's glare. "Or not. Just a joke!"

Ivan _really_ wished Alfred wasn't there. "We had better leave now."

"We had fun!" Alfred added, and Gilbert winked at him.

"Come back soon," the albino said.

"Oh, you'll be hearing from me soon..." Ivan said with a smile, and Gilbert flinched again.

Ivan wasn't in the best of moods as he escorted Alfred out of the building. He had been humiliated in front of a large room of people, including fucking Beilschmidt. The music and light had given him a headache, and he hadn't gotten anything out of the deal, having to use up one of his favors because of Alfred's presence. Really, everything negative about that night had been because of Alfred...

So why was Ivan feeling warmth inside instead of anger or at least annoyance at him?

* * *

"Please!" The man was on his knees, sobbing. Ivan stepped back in disgust at the pathetic display. "Please, spare me!"

"Give me one good reason." Ivan held a gun. The bastard hadn't quite earned a vicious beating.

The man held up his shaking left hand. "I have a wife! We've only been married a month!"

"What is that to me?" Ivan asked coolly, and the man just cried. Ivan pointed the gun at his forehead, narrowing his eyes.

After a long moment of silence broken only by the occasional sniffle and sob, the pathetic fellow finally lifted his head.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, go home," Ivan growled, letting the gun drop. "Forget you ever even met me, and I had better never hear about you again."

Ivan had never seen somebody move so fast in his life.

Left alone, Ivan stared down at his gun as if he had never seen it before. Then he turned and banged his head into the wall. "What the hell is wrong with me?"


	12. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

Ivan strode along the road, a couple of his companions following. He had just finished a nice chat with a new business owner in town, and was on his way home. It was a nice evening for a walk, so he had forgone the car. Ivan's usual companions were occupied elsewhere, but when you had a "family" as big as Ivan's, you were never alone.

Spring was finally settling on the city, warming it up and bringing it back to life with color. Ivan wasn't quite ready to start removing his coat and scarf outdoors, but it was still an improvement.

Ivan ignored the chatting of the men who trailed after him, glancing instead at the stores they passed. Clothing, jewelry, clothing again, coffee... He thought briefly about getting a hot drink, but decided against it. Then Ivan came to a stop, studying another small building.

"What is it?" one of the other men, Mikhail, asked.

"Ah... nothing." Ivan tilted his head, pondering.

"Well, I do need to get going."

"Go then."

Mikhail continued walking, and the remaining man, Yuri, turned to follow Ivan's gaze. "Er... are you planning on... getting one, boss?"

"Maybe." Ivan walked closer to the building.

"May I ask why?" Yuri said, hurrying to catch up.

Ivan studied some of the tattoo designs in the parlor's window. "It's spontaneous, don't you think?"

"Sir?"

"I have a friend who appreciates spontaneity."

Ivan could see Yuri grin out of the corner of his eye. "Alfred?"

"Does everybody know about him?" Ivan asked, annoyed.

"Oh, well, yes..."

"Great."

"We know the situation and the rules! Nobody will blab anything to him."

Ivan turned to glare at him, then walked into the tattoo parlor. Just great. He wondered how many of them were talking behind his back about how cute it was.

"What are you going to get?" Yuri wondered, taking in the designs along the wall.

"I don't know." That was the point of being spontaneous. Ivan had never considered such a thing before. "His name?"

"Er..."

"No?"

"W-well... forgive me..." Yuri stepped away from Ivan, as if to study different designs. "Not all relationships last forever."

Ivan scowled at him.

"It's true! Even perfect marriages of many years break up."

He supposed that _was_ true... If Alfred did decide to trade Ivan in for a younger model at some point down the line, he didn't want a constant reminder. "I won't get his name."

So it would be _something_ Alfredy, yet not so much that it would be obsolete if Alfred were no longer in his life. And something that wouldn't be embarrassing if it were seen by friend or foe. That ruled out a lot of Alfred-related things, really. With a sigh, Ivan resumed studying the designs, ignoring the tattoo artists who asked if he needed help.

His spontaneous decision was growing a lot less spontaneous as he studied every design. Dragons weren't very Alfred, nor were Chinese characters, or flowers, or vines...

Ivan stopped at a stylized picture of the sun, pursing his lips as he studied it. Now that he liked. And what wasn't sunny about Alfred? The sun was light, warmth, life—the things Alfred had brought into Ivan's life. And he liked the design, and wouldn't mind others seeing. "This one."

"That one's nice," Yuri said.

Ivan glanced at him, then toward a rose picture he had studied earlier. "Doesn't your wife like roses?"

The other man's expression grew horrified. "Yes... she does..."

* * *

"This is the place!" Alfred released Matthew's hand, holding up the printed directions. "Yup, that's it."

"It looks expensive," Matthew said, frowning at the building.

"You think so?"

"If I have to wear a tie to it, it's too expensive." Matthew let out a long sigh. "Your boyfriend isn't paying, is he?"

Alfred shook his head. "I am."

"This is not saving money, Al."

"It's just one dinner to celebrate my raise and your performance!"

"Eh...?"

"On the exams, of course!" Alfred clarified. "What'd you think I meant?"

"Nothing." Matthew tugged on his tie, just like Alfred had until Ivan had taken him to enough fancy places for him to grow used to it.

"Well, I read about it online, and it seemed like a nice place."

Matthew eyed him. "You haven't been here before?"

"Nope! I wanted to try something new. I thought it'd be cool if I could tell Ivan about some nice restaurant for a change!"

"Very cool," Matthew said, and Alfred honestly wasn't sure if that was sarcasm or not. "So what time's the reservation for?"

Alfred blinked. "What?"

Matthew gave him a sidelong look. "The... reservation? What time did you make it for?"

"I didn't make one."

Matthew sighed again. "If I have to wear a tie to it, it probably requires a reservation, Al. They won't seat us!"

"Well let's at least try. Ivan never mentions reservations, and we always get seated."

"He probably slips them a wad of cash!"

Alfred tugged his brother into the restaurant, ignoring his protests. Reservations weren't necessary, were they? They just guaranteed a person a table. It was like buying movie tickets online, he figured. A guarantee, but not required, you could still just buy them at the theater when you got there.

"Good evening, sirs," the douche in the suit greeted them as they walked in.

"Hey," Alfred said. "Table for two?"

He turned to his book. "Your name?"

"Me? Alfred Jones."

"Hmm. I don't seem to see..." The fellow trailed off, glancing nervously up at them. "Alfred Jones, you said?"

"Yup, that's me!"

"Ah..." He swallowed. "Right. Please, follow me!"

"See?" Alfred elbowed Matthew, and tugged him after the fellow.

They were seated at a small table for two in the middle of the restaurant, all adorned with fancy tableware and a single candle.

"This place looks so expensive..." Matthew glanced around nervously. "We can't afford this. And I feel like everyone's watching me and judging, ready to laugh the second I use the wrong fork..." He turned back to his brother. "What was that, anyway?"

"What was what?" Alfred spread his napkin across his lap. "The forks?"

"Are you sure you haven't been here before? That guy seemed to recognize you."

"No he didn't," Alfred scoffed. "He just remembered he had a table available."

"He didn't recognize your name?"

"Not that I noticed. He was just repeating it, you know?"

Matthew shrugged, picking up his menu. He studied it for a moment and whined. "The prices..."

Alfred looked at his own menu, wincing. "Yeah. The prices." Maybe he wouldn't tell Ivan about that restaurant. He probably wouldn't be happy Alfred was paying for that sort of thing on his own, when he couldn't afford to. "Maybe just a salad..."

"Maybe we can split that salad," Matthew said, and Alfred chuckled.

"Gentlemen?"

The brothers turned to stare at the waiter who had approached with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"Yes?" Alfred said. "Uh, we didn't order any-"

"Complements of the owner, sirs." He set the glasses down on the table and pulled out a corkscrew.

"Oh. Well, that's very nice! But, uh, we're actually nineteen, and..." Alfred trailed off as the waiter just smiled at him and poured the wine. "Um. Thank you."

"Are you ready to order?"

"Nope."

"Sorry," Matthew added. He waited until they were left alone again. "What the hell was that?"

"What service!" Alfred picked his glass up. "See, this is how to get repeat customers."

"Offer free wine to underage diners? You wouldn't do that!"

"Well, no." Alfred shrugged. "To each his own."

Matthew gave him a baffled look, then returned to his menu. "Maybe I will get a salad."

"I want something with meat in it."

"Salad with chicken?"

"That's not meat."

The waiter eventually took their order, and they waited, Matthew fidgeting nervously. "This place is weird."

"No it isn't," Alfred said. "No weirder than any other nice restaurant."

Matthew sighed. "Don't become a snob, just because you're dating a rich guy."

"I'm not! I'm just saying, they're all like this."

"They act like they know you!"

"They do that on purpose, to seem friendly."

"Really?" Matthew frowned. "Not to me. They never even asked my name."

"Aww..." Alfred patted his brother's hand. "You can take charge next time."

"_Next_ time? Tonight's dinner could have fed us for a week at the grocery store."

"You can take charge at the grocery store, then!"

Matthew gulped down a glass of wine and quickly refilled it.

Alfred laughed. "I'm just kidding, bro. I'll introduce you when the waiter comes back! Maybe we'll get another bottle of wine."

Matthew smiled at him, and they settled back to wait for their food from the strange waiter.


	13. Chapter 13

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

Ivan knocked on the door and stepped back, gazing around at the hallway as he waited. As always, the sight of the old, cracked paint and somewhat stained carpet annoyed him. Part of him wished he could whisk the brothers away and set them up in a much nicer home.

But he had no desire to be one of those rich guys who spoiled their partner _quite_ that much, buying them everything they could ever want. He forgot what that was called, but it was a type of candy or something. And he knew such a thing would not be appreciated, either. And anyway, it was only a temporary residence typical of college students; at least they weren't in a dorm or something.

Alfred finally opened the door with a bright smile. "Hello."

"Hello," Ivan echoed, then pulled Alfred into a kiss. He slid his tongue into the boy's mouth, running his hands down his back and cupping his ass.

Alfred abruptly pulled back. "For god's sake, I'm _Matthew_!"

Ivan jerked away in horror, swearing. Goddammit, why did he _keep doing that_? He stared at Matthew's shocked face, feeling his own face heat up and his heart thud rapidly. _Please don't tell..._ "I... you... I'm so-"

"Hey, chill." The boy laughed, dropping the startled look. "I'm just messing with you, Vanya, it's me."

Alfred stepped closer, and Ivan backed away. "I don't believe you deserve another kiss."

"Aww... Come on, you knew it was me. Does Mattie's hair do this?" He flicked his gravity-defying lock.

Ivan just grunted and walked past Alfred into the apartment. Dammit. His greatest fear—outside of mafia-related stuff, or bad things happening to Alfred—was making out with the wrong brother. Stupid Alfred.

"Come ooon, I'm sorry!" Alfred gave Ivan a friendly slap on the back.

"Ow!"

"What'd I do now?" Alfred groaned.

"Ah, nothing." Ivan removed his coat, then started unbuttoning his shirt. He wasn't quite annoyed enough to not want to show his lover the surprise.

Alfred brightened back into his usual self. "You forgive me, then?"

"I wanted to show you something."

"Oh."

Ivan removed his shirt and turned around. "Don't touch."

There was silence behind him as Alfred presumably inspected Ivan's new tattoo. He smiled to himself and waited, hoping it would be received favorably. But as the silence stretched on, Ivan started to have doubts. Didn't he like it? Not everybody liked tattoos. What if Ivan had permanently marked himself with a major turn-off for Alfred? "Uh, Al?"

"Wow." Fingers lightly touched his back, away from the healing tattoo. "That's really cool."

Ivan let out a small relieved sigh. "You like it?"

"I do! What made you get it?"

"Nothing in particular. It was a spur of the moment decision when I walked past a tattoo parlor."

"Really?" Alfred said doubtfully.

"Yes, don't you-"

"You were out walking?"

Ivan turned on him. "You're still on my bad list, you know."

Alfred gave him a sheepish smile, and leaned over to kiss Ivan. "I'm sorry, love."

Ivan immediately caved, of course. It was hard to stay annoyed when Alfred called him that. "It's okay."

"So why a sun?"

"Well, it made me think of you, and the warmth and light you have brought into my life."

"Oh..." Alfred melted against Ivan. "That is so sweet."

"I'm glad you like it," Ivan said, holding him close.

"I want one."

"You do?"

Alfred nodded. "We can be a matching set! That would be awesome. I can get the moon."

"The moon...?"

"Yeah! Since you're... like... the cool, pale light in the darkness."

Ivan coughed. "That is very sweet and poetic, but in most mythologies, isn't the moon the female counterpart to the sun?"

Alfred hesitated. "Maybe? I still want it, though."

"Then you shall get it." Ivan gave him another kiss. "I would like to be a matching set with you."

"Great!" Alfred beamed. "Ha, Mattie's gonna freak."

"Is he? It would be another difference between you."

"Oh, yeah..." Alfred's face fell. "Maybe he can get one, too."

Ivan laughed. "You can certainly suggest that to him."

Alfred tugged Ivan to the couch, burrowing against him. "I will. Hey, have you been to the Cerulean Grill before?"

"No," Ivan lied automatically.

"Really? We should go!"

Ivan winced. Lying wasn't always the best option. "Should we?"

"Yeah! You'd love it! They have great service."

"Ah... you went there?" Ivan swallowed. That restaurant was a place he frequented, they definitely knew him there. "Alone?"

"Nah, I went with Mattie. We were celebrating something. And Mattie kept saying 'blah blah, you need a reservation', but I didn't, the guy asked my name and immediately got us a table! And the waiter brought us free wine."

"Did he now? That is good service." Ivan closed his eyes, trying not to despair. How had this spread so quickly? Did _everybody_ who knew Ivan know about Alfred now? How in the world was he going to continue keeping everything a secret? "You'll have to show me some day." After he had a long chat with the owner. He was really getting kind of sick of those chats...

"I will. So! Take me to that tattoo parlor! The same one, okay?"

* * *

"Oww, I can't sleep..." Alfred knelt beside Matthew's bed, resting his face on the mattress.

"You're the one who wanted a tattoo," Matthew said, and yawned.

"How much longer until I can lay on it?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"You know more things than me..."

"I won't argue with that, but I don't know much about tattoos." Matthew ran a hand through his brother's hair. "Go sleep on your stomach."

"I can't sleep on my stomach."

"You can sleep on your side, though."

"Yeah... but I roll around."

"I don't know what to tell you, Al."

Alfred sighed. "I'll figure something out... Oh, and at the parlor, I saw a very nice star design."

"Yes?"

"For you!"

Matthew peered at him in the dark. "I'm getting a tattoo?"

"Of course! We're always a matching set, Matt!"

Matthew rolled away with a groan. "I don't remember signing up for that..."

* * *

Ivan stared at the television without really seeing what was going on. He finally came to a decision—he needed to politely ask Alfred to go home. Normally the boy's presence was a delightful distraction when he wasn't in the best of moods, but his current bad mood just wasn't subsiding. Everything had gone wrong that day, and he had subsequently forgotten that, with so many people absent from his home, he had invited Alfred over. His lover had dropped by to Ivan's surprise, before he had remembered the invitation earlier. And he had hoped the situation would improve...

Some days, though, he just needed to be alone. He would have to hope Alfred understood. Everyone had bad days, after all.

"Al?"

"Coming!" Alfred was in the kitchen fetching something stronger to drink. Ivan stood, picking up their half-finished glasses of juice as he did so. As luck would have it, Alfred chose that moment to sneak up behind Ivan and pounce on him, sending juice flying all over Ivan. Red juice.

"Oh god, I'm sorry!" Alfred looked around, presumably for a napkin. "Oh, not again..."

"Indeed," Ivan said through gritted teeth. "I do believe that's two suits you've ruined."

"I'm _so _sorry, I was..." Alfred trailed off, eyes narrowing, and Ivan instantly realized his mistake. "Two? You said your cleaner fixed the other one..."

"Uh..."

"You lied!" Alfred backed away, still staring at Ivan through narrowed eyes.

"I just didn't want to upset you." Well that boded well, Alfred being upset about a little white lie to protect his feelings... "At least that time was accidental.."

"I was just having fun."

"You're always 'having fun'!" Ivan glared. It had been a long, stressful, awful day, and everything was crashing down on him. "You need to fucking _grow up_ sometimes!"

Alfred's eyes widened. "What?"

"You heard me! It's endearing in moderation, but dammit, you're an adult, in an adult relationship, and it'd be nice if you acted like it once in a while!"

"I do!" Alfred snapped, hands balled into fists at his sides. "I act plenty adult. It's not my fault you have a goddamn stick up your ass!"

"Wh-"

"You wouldn't even know how to have fun if not for me! You're just a boring old workaholic—and that's something coming from somebody who used to do nothing but work! Even on my worst days I could still find something to be happy about. But look at you, all stressed and pissy about work, because you don't know a damn thing about how to live!"

"Get out!" Ivan shouted, before something was said he would really regret.

"Fine!" Alfred turned and stormed out of the room. A moment later, the sound of the front door slamming echoed through the house.

Ivan didn't allow himself time to think. He strode over to his bar and snatched up the bottle of vodka and a shot glass. He glared at the small glass and tossed it aside, then picked up a beer mug and filled it up.


	14. Chapter 14

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

Matthew sighed and continued to rub his sobbing brother's back, occasionally glancing around at the other restaurant patrons, ready to glare if anybody was staring. "C'mon, Al... we really should go home to talk about this, don't you think?" Alfred had already spilled out the whole story like five times. When he didn't answer, Matthew gave Francis an apologetic look. So much for their "date".

It was funny, really. Nobody who knew the brothers would have ever guessed it would be Alfred to find love first, to fall head over heels, and be wined and dined and _made love to_. While Matthew was perfectly content to have a physical relationship, with dates being mostly a precursor to being tossed onto a bed and fucked. He was only nineteen, plenty of time to have fun before settling down.

But it seemed that tonight wasn't going to end in sex. And that was okay. His brother was more important than being plowed into a mattress.

"What do I do?" Alfred whimpered. "I—ow!"

"Sorry." Matthew rubbed a different part of his back.

"Thanks... What do I do? I love him, Mattie, I don't want to lose him..."

"Lose him?" Matthew smiled gently, tugging Alfred closer. "Idiot. Why would you lose him? It's just a fight. You said yourself he was in a bad mood all day."

"B-but I said bad things about him..."

"Seriously, Alfred, all couples fight. Now you've gotten past the first one, so that's good!"

Alfred cracked open one eye. "Have you?"

"Me?" Matthew glanced toward Francis, who was watching in quiet sympathy. "You mean us? Well, no, we haven't had a real fight yet, but we're not as serious as you guys are..."

"What would you do if you did?"

"Uh. I guess I'd apologize."

Alfred sniffled. "And that's all?"

"I... I guess it depends on how big the fight was..."

"What if it was a big fight?"

Matthew sighed. "I suppose I would apologize and blow him." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Francis grin.

"_Matt!_"

"You asked..."

Alfred was quiet for a long moment. "Do you... think that would work?"

"I wasn't offering advice for you," Matthew said quickly. "You don't need to... er... unless you think that would work..."

"Ah, being gay..." Francis sighed. "If it were a woman, it would be easy. You just need to apologize, because the woman is always right—even if she wasn't—then give her some flowers."

"You are nuts," Matthew said. "Girls hold grudges for years. It's men that are easy, they would forgive anything to get laid."

"Ivan likes flowers," Alfred said. "Maybe I should give him flowers and blow him?"

Matthew really wished he had not brought that up. "You can just start with apologizing and go from there. And he should apologize, too, and..." They said that curiosity killed the cat. That phrase was very true. "Can you...?"

Alfred wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Can I what?"

"Well... you've always talked about how... er... big Ivan is. _Can_ you... um..."

"Oh." Alfred chuckled. Well, at least that was an improvement, the poor thing was a mess. "Well. No. Not the _whole_ thing. But I manage, and he seems to like it."

Matthew noticed Francis opening his mouth to say something, and quickly elbowed him. It was time to move on. "Well, anyway, I'm sure everything will be fine. You just need to let him cool off, then you can both say you're sorry, because you love each other."

Alfred nodded.

"Come on, let's go get you some ice cream and then get home." Matthew glanced over at Francis. "Sorry."

"It is fine." Francis smiled. "Take care of him."

Matthew helped Alfred up, and put an arm around him as they left the restaurant. "Did you really think your relationship was over?"

"Idunno..." Alfred mumbled.

"You should know better."

"Well I've never been in a decent relationship before!"

"But you know Ivan."

"Yeah..." Alfred stared at his feet as they walked. "And I always thought he liked how I acted... he's always said he did. He said I brought light into his life. Now he's saying I'm too childish."

"Well what you did was kinda stupid."

Alfred shoved Matthew's arm away. "Shut up."

"See? You are being childish."

Alfred hesitated, then pressed close again. "Yeah..."

"Come on. What flavor do you want?"

Alfred smiled. "Our usual. One scoop chocolate, one scoop maple."

* * *

By the time he got to the end of a sentence, he couldn't really remember how it had started. Ivan gave up trying to read and tossed the newspaper aside. He wasn't in the mood for news, anyway.

He wasn't going to work, though. He had decided. No work until tomorrow morning, he was taking a day off.

It was bizarre. What the hell was he supposed to do with himself?

Ivan retrieved the newspaper and attempted the crossword puzzle. After filling in three words, he stood and shuffled over to the window to gaze out at the fog. What appropriate weather for his mood. But he could only watch the blanket of gray for so long before moving away to find something else to do.

He tried watching television, browsing the internet, snacking, plotting the murder of people he didn't like, and even contemplated a bath or a nap. It was like the fog had settled on his soul instead of the land. He just couldn't concentrate on or enjoy anything. Ivan finally gave up and approached his bar, scowling when he realized how low he had gotten on booze. Someone would have to go to the store. Or he could go to a... no. No bars.

Ivan was considering a nap much more seriously when a knock came at the door. He didn't even bother seeing who it was before pulling the door open—he didn't really care if it was an enemy.

It was Alfred, looking sheepish and carrying a bouquet of sunflowers.

"Al..." Ivan had to remind himself of how they had parted, though all he wanted to do was hug Alfred tight and not let go.

"Hey." Alfred didn't quite look at Ivan. "Um, I know you said you didn't want me just dropping by..."

"It's all right," Ivan said. "I'm pretty much alone here."

"Oh, okay. Good. Um..."

They stood in awkward silence, looking everywhere but at each other for a long moment.

"Vanya..."

Ivan looked up, heart pounding. Alfred was still using his nickname... "Yes?"

"I'm sorry!" Alfred finally said, tears filling his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Don't cry." Ivan tugged Alfred into his arms. "Don't ever cry. I'm sorry, too."

"I didn't mean what I said! Well, maybe a little, but not in a bad way, and I'm sorry I act like a kid sometimes, and ruin your clothes, I won't do anything childish anymore and-"

"Shh," Ivan said. "Don't, Al. Don't change. Maybe use some common sense, but don't try and change. Well, maybe a little, if you want."

Alfred just sniffled. When Ivan pulled back to kiss him, he couldn't help but notice how red his eyes were. It made Ivan's heart ache to think of Alfred crying so much because of him. "I love you."

Alfred's smile melted the fog in Ivan's soul. "I love you, too. And this is great!"

Ivan returned the smile. "It is?"

"We fought! If a couple can make it past the first fight, they can make it past anything."

"Oh." Ivan couldn't help but laugh. "Is that how it works?"

Alfred nodded, setting the bouquet aside. "And... and I'll pay for the clothes."

"Oh, don't worry about that."

"I insist! How much were they?"

Ivan coughed. "About nineteen hundred..."

"Each?"

"Yes."

"Dollars?"

"Yes."

"So, uh... Do you want a blowjob?"

"Er." Ivan blinked. "Now?"

"Whenever."

"Is that in payment for the suits?"

Alfred chuckled. "Maybe."

"That's a lot of blowjobs."

Alfred laughed some more, until his eyes happened to fall on Ivan's hands and he gasped. "What happened?" He lifted one of his hands to peer more closely at the skinned knuckles.

"Um." Ivan tugged the hand back. "Well, I was upset the other day, and punched, uh... a wall."

Alfred grimaced. "Don't do that."

"I won't do it again. So come, sit down."

Alfred bounced over to the couch with his usual enthusiasm, warming Ivan further. Had he actually yelled at Alfred for being childish?

"Oh!" Alfred picked up the bundle of leopard print fabric that had been slung over the back of the couch. "You've been wearing the Snuggie?"

Ivan nodded. "When I've been cold."

"Aww... So!" Alfred set it aside and patted the cushion beside him. "Where's your sister?"

Ivan settled down beside his lover on the couch. "She is working."

"Oh yeah? I don't think you ever said exactly what she does."

"Many things." Ivan smiled. "She is currently dabbling in politics."

Alfred wrinkled his nose. "Well, I guess she's suited for it."

"You haven't seen her again, have you?"

"Nope."

"Good." Ivan sighed deeply. "After I threatened to do to her anything she did to you, I was half afraid she would try to rape you or something."

"The girl has issues."

"You have no idea."

Alfred grinned, snuggling close. "I wasn't kidding about the blowjob."

"Not that I'm complaining, but what is it with you and blowjobs today?"

"It's what Mattie said he'd do if he ever had to apologize to Francis..."

Ivan rolled his eyes. "I may not know Francis too well, but I'm going to say that's probably how one says 'hello' and 'thank you' to him, also."

"Probably." Alfred giggled.

"And you..." Ivan trailed off as his brain caught up with him. "You talk about that sort of thing with your brother? Sex?"

"Eh, sure."

"Ah..." Ivan swallowed. "Yes, I could go for one about now."

* * *

Ivan walked out of the bar just as Matthew was about to walk in. And he knew it was him, since Alfred was still inside. Their eyes met, and Matthew's narrowed. That didn't bode well, but Ivan could guess what he would be unhappy about.

"I suppose you want to speak with me as long as I'm here?" Ivan said.

"Please." Matthew allowed himself to be propelled around the side of the building. "Well..."

"I seem to recall, when we first met, you threatened me with awful things if I ever hurt your brother?"

Matthew rubbed the back of his neck, expression sheepish. It was endearingly similar to Alfred's mannerisms. "Not really. I said I _wouldn't_ do that... Why, do you want me to yell at you?"

"You looked annoyed when we just ran into each other."

Matthew shrugged. "A little. But you were both to blame, it wasn't entirely your fault."

"Thank you."

"Just mostly. Don't take your bad moods out on him."

Ivan nodded. "I will not."

"I don't want to have to see him cry again."

"If he ever cries again because of me, you have my permission to kick my ass."

Matthew laughed softly. "I'll keep that in mind. Now if you'll excuse me, I brought Al some food."

"Wait," Ivan said as Matthew turned to leave.

"Yes?"

"We should do something."

Matthew blinked. "You and me?"

"All of us. All four of us."

"Four..."

Ivan nodded. "Like a... double date?"

Matthew chuckled. "What, you mean Francis? He's, uh, we're not... a couple."

Of course not. "Then me and my boyfriend, and you and your fuck buddy."

Matthew's face reddened, and his expression grew slightly perplexed. Ivan could imagine why the concept of all of them hanging out would seem odd. Alfred ranted about Francis often, and Francis probably wasn't Ivan's biggest fan after their first meeting. "Well... sure. Why not? Um... let's get ice cream tomorrow after I'm done with classes. Do you know where the ice cream parlor on 5th is?"

"Yes," Ivan said. "I am dating your brother. I am familiar with ice cream parlor locations."


	15. Chapter 15

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

It was rather strange, the way Francis was acting like they were old buddies. This was only the second time they had met, and it was as if the first had never occurred. Apparently he didn't hold a grudge. He stood with Ivan at the counter, waiting for their ice cream, looking back at their dates. The brothers had already started eating, licking away at their cones, occasionally offering each other licks of their own.

"We are lucky men," Francis murmured. "Dating twins is wonderful."

Ivan eyed him. "You are dating _a_ twin, not _twins_."

"Right, right. You know what I mean."

"I do." Ivan slowly smiled. "And I agree."

Francis accepted his cone, and Ivan continued to wait for his.

"I hear a lot about you," Ivan said, just trying to make conversation.

"Oh? Anything good?"

"Only if you count 'he's corrupting my innocent brother' as good."

Francis chuckled, then licked at a line of ice cream that dripped down his cone. "Innocent, right. I hear a lot about you as well. Mostly good."

Ivan was handed his cone at last. "That is good." He tasted the mint chocolate chip. "And I am not sure why Alfred is so certain about his brother's innocence when he has been in a physical relationship with you this whole time."

Francis winked, and they finally joined the brothers at their table.

"What'd you get?" Alfred inspected both of their cones. "Hmm, nice. Here, try mine." He held his cone out, until Ivan took it.

It wasn't bad. Then Alfred turned away to chat with his brother, and Ivan was struck by sudden inspiration. He bit off the bottom of the cone, then handed it back. Alfred absently licked at his ice cream, talking about some of the funny things customers had said at work the previous night. Ivan counted down in his head until it finally started to occur to Alfred that something was amiss.

"Oh, ugh!" Alfred grabbed a napkin. "Oh no, there's ice cream everywhere, my hand, it's dripping down my arm!"

"Put it down," Matthew said patiently, picking up another napkin to help.

"What happened? Look, the point's gone! Who did that? _Ivan_!"

Ivan just smiled at Alfred, trying hard not to laugh. Who had a stick up his ass now? The boy gaped back at him in surprise, jaw hanging open and eyes comically wide, while Matthew tried to clean his arm up. Ivan's smile fell as he started to wonder if he had made a mistake.

"Ivan..." Alfred's shocked face broke out in a smile. "Did you play a trick on me?"

Ivan couldn't hold it any longer. He laughed, and Alfred soon joined him. And when the other pair joined in, Ivan thought that he couldn't remember a happier moment. It was great to just feel normal.

"Well." Alfred planted a kiss on Ivan's cheek. "You have a lot to learn about practical jokes, love, but that was a good start!"

"Thank you." Alfred could say just about anything if it involved the word 'love' and Ivan would agree.

"Now I had better go clean up... And get more ice cream."

"You nearly finished that cone," Ivan said, knowing it was useless.

"So?"

"I want another one, too," Matthew said.

The brothers left, and Ivan was again left alone with Francis, who was finishing up with his own ice cream. And Ivan was again left wondering what to say. "Ah... well. You don't hate me."

"Obviously not." Francis licked his fingers in a way that made Ivan wonder just why he was bothering when Matthew wasn't there to see it. "It was only a misunderstanding. I appreciate that the boys have somebody like you to tear the limbs off anyone who threatens them."

"Oh, well. Yes, I would." Ivan smiled, and for some reason, Francis flinched back. Ivan popped the rest of his cone into his mouth, and wiped the sticky residue off with a napkin. He didn't eat ice cream at every parlor he was dragged to, but still. He looked mournfully down at his belly and wondered if he was seeing a bit extra there. He _still_ wasn't sure how Alfred stayed in shape, when did the boy have time to work out? And he was a bartender, he didn't have to worry about his shape. And as a future pilot, he'd just shed excess weight, anyway. But a tubby, waddling mafia boss would be a laughingstock, right? Ivan would have to be careful...

"What are you lost in thought about?" Francis said, following Ivan's eyes. "Yes, you have a nice body. It is a shame you like to cover it up."

Ivan wasn't sure whether to punch Francis or hug him. So he settled for doing nothing.

"So now that we're friends, there is something I've wanted to ask," Francis said, smile growing. "Do you really ha-"

"We're back!" Alfred plopped an alarmingly large sundae down on the table, and settled into his chair. Matthew sat down beside him, both of them armed with spoons and wearing mirrored expressions of delight.

"Oh dear," Ivan said, exchanging a glance with Francis. They were going to be there a while.

* * *

They left the club behind, clinging to each other and laughing. They weren't drunk, just buzzed and feeling happy with life in general. It was Alfred's night off, Ivan did not have any pressing business, and they had as long as they wanted to enjoy themselves.

"I'm telling you, that wouldn't work!" Alfred said between chuckles. "You'd die!"

"No," Ivan insisted, "it would work."

"It would not! You still need a parachute!"

"Well how would you-"

"Hey...!"

They came to a stop at the other man's voice. He was standing a short distance away, gaping at them in apparent shock. He wasn't somebody Ivan recognized, but that didn't mean he did not recognize Ivan...

"What's up?" Alfred said.

"It's you..." Oh yes, he was someone who recognized Ivan, for he pulled a gun out and pointed it at them. Who was he? Not Italian, but that didn't mean he wasn't associated with them... Or any of the other countless people who weren't overly fond of him.

Alfred drew in a sharp breath. "He's..."

Ivan swallowed thickly around a knot of fear. _Oh no. No no no... _He held Alfred closer. Alfred... he was going to be hurt, or find out. Possibly both. He shook his head at the man. _Just leave us alone. Please just leave us alone_.

"Let go," Alfred whispered. "Who is he? Oh god, it's a mugger!"

Ivan let go, nodding dumbly. A mugger. If the bastard left now, they could go with that. Just a mugger. The man, meanwhile, was giving them a perplexed look. Probably wondering why Ivan hadn't retrieved one of his weapons. Why _Ivan Braginsky_ looked horrified instead of pissed or creepily amused.

"Leave us alone!" To Ivan's utter shock, Alfred stepped between him and the gunman. "Loser. When I needed money, I got a job!"

"Al..." Ivan breathed. Still standing firmly between them, Alfred glanced over his shoulder at him. Ivan drew back slightly at the harsh, cold look on Alfred's face.

And the other man was staring at them, gun not wavering though he looked less sure of himself. At the sight of Ivan apparently cowering behind a kid, he was probably wondering if he had made a mistake.

"Al, for fuck's sake, move!" Ivan shoved at him, trying to take his rightful place between threat and Alfred. Ready to pull out his gun, regardless of what Alfred thought. Better he find out Ivan walked around fully armed than get shot playing hero.

But the gunman had already turned and fled, and Ivan would never find out what the hell that was all about. The only thing he could figure was that his hunch was right—the man had convinced himself this coward could not be Ivan Braginsky.

But he had left them unharmed, without revealing Ivan's identity. His pride would have to wait.

"You idiot!" Ivan pulled Alfred into his arms, heart hammering so harshly against his ribs the boy had to feel it. The adrenaline started to fade, leaving him angry and almost painfully terrified. Someone had pointed a gun at Alfred... because of him. Ivan's chest hitched. He almost felt like he wanted to cry. He'd been trying so hard to keep Alfred away from all of that...

"Shh, baby..." Alfred nuzzled his neck. "He's gone now. It's okay."

And now Alfred thought Ivan had been frightened by a mugger, while he himself had stared him down. That was just wonderful. But anything was better than just about any other possible outcome...

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Ivan said. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

"Vanya?" Alfred blinked his big sky-blue eyes.

"I'm not afraid of a mugger, I'm afraid of you being hurt!"

"Well..." Alfred smiled, tugging Ivan down until their foreheads touched. "I didn't want you hurt, either."

Ivan swallowed thickly. "And you would be hurt in my place?"

"You have to ask? Of course."

Ivan's eyes slid shut. _Alfred..._

It was all too much. Alfred was being threatened. He was meeting Ivan's mafia friends, getting involved in his work, and now he was being threatened. And Ivan felt helpless to do anything without revealing things to Alfred he'd rather not reveal. And Alfred would willingly walk into a bullet if he thought he was protecting Ivan.

Not to mention he had been _afraid_, something he was not accustomed to, and did not like.

It was too much. Ivan had to do _something_ soon, before he had some sort of breakdown.

"Al," he said, voice tight. He shoved some money into Alfred's hands. "Call a cab to take you home. Please."

"Vanya?" The hurt look on his face did _not_ help. "I... I'd really rather stay with you tonight..."

"I'm sorry." Ivan kissed him. "I need to be alone. Please understand."

"Are you-"

"I am not angry with you."

Alfred sighed, sounding frustrated. "Will you be okay?"

"I will be fine." Ivan managed a tight smile. "I will call you soon."

"All right..." Alfred reluctantly pulled out his phone to call for a cab. Ivan did not move until he saw his lover safely in the backseat. He waved, watched the cab drive off.

Then he stalked away, looking for someone. Anyone. The gunman, whoever he was, however he was affiliated with the mafia, was probably a lost cause. Ivan wouldn't find him unless he was extremely lucky. But at the moment, he wasn't picky about whom he found. He reached into his coat as he strode along, fingering one of the guns tucked away in there.

The gang of young punks never saw what hit them.


	16. Chapter 16

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

Alfred was still sitting on the couch beside the phone when Matthew returned home. He glanced up with a wan smile. "Hey..."

"Haven't you slept?" Matthew dropped his bag aside. "I'd rather not go through that again."

"He hasn't called."

With a sigh, Matthew joined his brother on the couch, putting an arm around him. "Give him time."

"I know, but..."

"You said he was pretty freaked out, right?" He heaved another sigh. "As you should be. I swear, you don't even have the sense to be upset by weapons pointed at you."

Alfred just shrugged. The mugger had aimed at Ivan—for obvious reasons, it didn't take a genius to determine Ivan was the wealthier of the pair—and his only thought at the time had been protecting him. And ever since then, he had been too worried about Ivan to concern himself with the gun that had been briefly pointed in his direction. "I tried calling. He didn't answer. Where do you think he went?"

"Home," Matthew said. "I hope..."

"Eh! You're worried, too!" For some reason, that made the situation just a little worse.

"Well, of course..." Matthew's arms tightened around him. "That wasn't a very safe area you left him in."

Alfred winced. "I didn't leave him!"

"You know what I mean," Matthew said, apologetic. "It's a bad neighborhood. You shouldn't go to places like that anymore. Lots of gangs and stuff."

"I guess so."

"Maybe the mugger _was_ a gang member."

Alfred shook his head. "He was dressed too nicely to be in a gang."

"Well I was reading today about a bunch of gang members that were killed not far from that area last night, so be more careful!"

"Really?" Alfred made a face. "Glad we didn't run into _that_."

Matthew nodded. "But don't worry. They'd probably have mentioned if a wealthy Russian businessman had been found dead, too."

"Gee. You're swell at cheering me up, Matt."

"Come on. Let's watch stupid action movies to take your mind off it." Matthew grabbed the blanket slung over the back of the couch and tucked it over them, then picked up the remote.

They were in the middle of their second movie, a couple hours later, when the phone finally rang. Alfred practically leaped over his brother to answer it, not even noticing the caller ID. "Hello?"

"Alfred?"

He sagged against the couch. "Ivan... you jerk, I was worried. Why didn't you call sooner?" That sexy accented voice had never sounded sweeter.

"I'm sorry," Ivan said. "I was just... I don't know, really stressed last night."

"I know." Alfred retreated into his bedroom, flopping onto the bed. "But still..."

"I, um... I don't know how to say this..."

Alfred sat back up, heart hammering. That was never a good way for a sentence to start. "What?"

"I just needed to get away for a time. From work, and everything."

"What? Where are you?"

"Ah... home."

"Home?" Alfred blinked. "That's not very getting away."

"My _old _home. In Moscow."

Alfred slowly tipped back over onto the bed. "What?"

"It was a very last-minute decision-"

"You're in _Russia_?"

"Yes, and I-"

"You just thought you'd trot off to another country without telling me?"

"Well, I was go-"

"I've been so worried! I couldn't sleep, I was waiting for you to call, and Mattie says there's been gang activity and stuff, and I didn't hear from you and I was worried."

"I truly am sorry, Al, and I just want-"

"You can't just go and do something like-"

"_Alfred!_"

"What?" Alfred fell quiet, frowning into his blanket.

"I want you to come here."

"What?" Alfred blinked, rolling over. "To... to Russia?"

"Yes."

"I... Well, that sounds nice, but..."

"I will buy the ticket."

Alfred groaned. "You can't keep spending all this money on me..."

"And if you can't get paid time off, I can-"

"Aahh, you can't keep giving me money! I'll talk to my boss, he's pretty cool."

There was a brief moment of silence. "So you're coming?"

"Yeah, okay." Excitement was already starting to bubble up. "If you promise to do all the talking for me. I'll get a phrase book, but I'll still mangle it..."

Ivan laughed, and Alfred couldn't help but grin, worries melting away. "Talk to your boss tonight. I'll call you again tomorrow."

"Okay. Love you. Um, bye."

Alfred wandered back into the living room, where he was met by Matthew's curious stare. "So that's interesting."

"Is he all right?" Matthew was holding onto a cushion, in lieu of the stuffed bear he insisted he no longer needed.

"He's all right." Alfred returned to his spot beside his twin. "He went home."

"Well he should've called, then..."

"Russia home."

Matthew fell silent, staring at the movie that continued to play. "Oh."

"Yup." Alfred scooted back under the blanket. "I'm gonna talk to my boss tonight and see how soon I can get a week or so off. Then I'll join him."

Matthew gave him a sidelong glance. "What, in Russia?"

"Yup!"

"You're really going to Russia?"

"Why not?"

Matthew groaned. "He's spoiling you..."

"He is not! I'll pay him back." Alfred nudged him. "I'm sure someday your boyfriend will take you to Paris."

"He's not my..." Matthew sighed. "Yeah, that'd be nice."

Alfred turned back to the movie, then groaned. "Oh lord, I need to pack..."

"I'll take care of it."

"You don't have to do that..."

Matthew patted his shoulder. "Trust me. I do.

* * *

Ivan set the phone aside with a smile. He hadn't really been sure that Alfred would come, but he was certainly glad.

He hadn't really thought about anything like that the night before when he bought a ticket spur of the moment. He really had just wanted to get away from everything for a time. Toris and Eduard could take care of things. But he had not been in Moscow long before deciding that Alfred wasn't one of the things he wanted to get away from. Besides, he was looking forward to showing his lover around his homeland.

And with the exception of his sister (whom he knew he could trust), there was nobody around who knew about Ivan's profession. For a week, at least, they could be together without worry.

Well, unless Alfred attempted to call somebody by a Russian endearment and end up calling them a nasty insult like he had Ivan once, but... that was an entirely different problem, and he would worry about that when it happened.


	17. Chapter 17

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

Alfred dragged his bag off of the carousel and tugged the handle up. He eyed the crowd, wishing he could understand a damn thing being said. He supposed he might have picked up a word or two if he had actually looked at the phrase book he had brought instead of playing video games and looking at magazines, but he would get around to it!

Where had Ivan said they would meet? By baggage claim? Alfred hoped it was by baggage claim, since he was there. He picked a direction and set off, trying to avoid other travelers.

"Hello? Mister?" a girl said. English! Alfred turned in her direction and blinked.

She did seem to be addressing him. She had short, pale hair, and was petite. Mostly. Except for... well. She was definitely well endowed.

"Um, yes?" Was she lost? She _sounded_ Russian, but that didn't mean she was familiar with the airport. Though how had she known he spoke English?

"Are you Alfred?" He nodded, and she smiled fondly at him. "I'm glad I found you! Oh, Vanya says he's sorry, but he's feeling a bit unwell today."

Alfred's smile stretched wider. "Oh, you must be his sister!"

She nodded. "I'm Yekaterina. You can call me Katyusha."

Russian nicknames made _no_ sense. But they were cute, so whatever.

"So what's wrong with Ivan?" Alfred asked as he followed Katyusha.

"He, um... last night..."

"Oh, he's hungover." Alfred nodded sagely. That was never fun.

"He didn't mean to drink so much yesterday. He was in a good enough mood. But sometimes it happens."

"He was probably worrying I'll do something stupid and start a war."

Katyusha giggled, maneuvering through the crowd toward what was presumably the exit to parking.

"You don't seem much like your sister," Alfred said, yanking along his suitcase and trying to juggle his other bags.

"Oh, I know. We aren't too similar."

A mild understatement. "I can relate!" he said with a grin. Though at least Mattie didn't go psycho on Alfred's boyfriend. Or on Alfred.

They eventually arrived at a small car in the parking lot, and Alfred paused near the trunk, head tilted. "No limo?"

"No limo," Katyusha said, helping Alfred get his bags inside. "Sorry."

"S'okay! I like a good ol' car."

And then he found himself enveloped in a pillowy hug. "It is so nice to finally meet you!"

"Oh, hey." Alfred laughed, hugging her back. "And you." Man, talk about different personalities. How could those two women be related? But Ivan was sweet, too. Maybe not in such an obvious way, but definitely sweet.

"Okay, come on." Katyusha released him, and they got into the car. "Let's get you to Vanya!"

* * *

Alfred's breath caught as he stepped out of the car and saw Ivan seated outside, looking more peaceful and content than he had in a long time, hangover either passed or ignored. The poor thing really had just needed to get away from work (and muggers). Alfred probably would have suggested a local bed and breakfast or something, rather than a country on the other end of the planet, but it must be good to be home.

Ivan's peaceful face broke out in a broad smile as he watched Alfred approach. "You made it."

"I did!" Alfred flung himself at Ivan, hugging tight. "My ass could use a massage after all that sitting, but I'm here."

"Hmm." Ivan gently held Alfred close. "What do you think so far?"

"Well your hands are on my back, so that's not quite-"

"I meant of Russia."

"Oh." Alfred laughed. "It's great! I can't understand a damn thing though."

"Well, you won't have to be alone much."

"I'll just put your things in Vanya's room," Katyusha said, rolling Alfred's suitcase toward the front door.

"Oh, thanks!" Giddiness bubbled up in Alfred. They would get to share a bed every night!

"Would you like to go sightseeing?" Ivan said.

Alfred nodded. "Of course! You don't mind showing me around? Oh, let's go to that Disney castle."

Ivan blinked. "Um... Disney castle?"

"I don't know what it's really called. The famous building that's all colorful and looks like something from Disney."

Ivan looked puzzled for a brief second before understanding dawned. "Do you mean St. Basil's Cathedral?"

"That's the one!"

Ivan's smile returned. "Yes, we can go there."

"Okay! What else should we do?"

"Well... there are lots and lots of parks and museums, wonderful architecture, the zoo..."

"Oh, wow. How are we going to have time for everything?" Alfred nuzzled against Ivan's neck. "You're supposed to be relaxing, not playing tour guide."

"I will do both. If I grow tired of looking around before you do, I can send my sister."

Alfred nodded. "Can we get food first?"

"Of course."

"Great! What's the best place for a good Russian burger?"

* * *

Ivan yawned, about ready to end this particular extended round of tourism and shopping. "Is that everything?"

"Just about. Oh!" Alfred picked up a bottle with a delighted grin.

Ivan couldn't help but chuckle at the boy's enthusiasm. "You don't like vodka."

"I know, but I have to buy some while I'm here."

"You sell that very kind in your bar!"

"It's not the same. Besides, I can legally buy it here!" Alfred finally went to pay for his souvenirs, greeting the cashier in horribly mispronounced Russian. But at least Ivan had gotten a few of the basics into his head.

"He is very sweet," Katyusha said with a smile. She had tagged along for the latter half of the shopping part of their trip.

Ivan nodded. "Maybe you can go shopping with me one of these days?"

"Hm? Isn't that what I have been doing?"

"Just with me. I'll find something else to occupy Al. Or wait until he's gone home." Ivan's face warmed. "It's almost his birthday."

"Oh! I didn't know that!" Katyusha grinned, bouncing in delight.

"Well, in a couple months. I want to get him something special."

"I'd love to help you look!"

Ivan smiled fondly at her. "Thank you. I'd like to get something nice for his brother, too."

Alfred joined them with his bags of goods, finally starting to look somewhat worn out. The trio walked out of the store into the cool spring night, and Ivan was once against struck by the fact that here, away from his work and everyone, he really could pretend to be a normal person in a normal, happy relationship.

* * *

Alfred leaned against Ivan, basking in the peaceful moment. The sky had been clear enough to allow them a view of the sunset earlier, and now they found themselves relaxing and watching the blossoming apple trees in Kolomenskoye Park. The night was chilly, and they huddled closer for warmth.

"We should go home," Ivan murmured, sounding tired.

Alfred nodded, feeling bad. This really was supposed to be Ivan's vacation to relax, and Alfred was taking up all of his time being touristy. Maybe tomorrow he could go with Katyusha instead or something. But really, what else was there to see that was as appealing as spending the day in bed with Ivan? Or at the very least, at home. They could be a nice domestic couple for once!

This whole trip had been a good idea. Despite the less than relaxing day, Ivan just looked so happy. Younger, even, which was weird because he wasn't old. It was a shame Alfred hadn't been able to get more time off than he had.

"Come on." Ivan stood, dusting his backside off, then reached down to help Alfred up. They returned to his car, climbed inside. Alfred wasn't sure why he got a kick out of Ivan _driving_, but he spent much of the ride just watching him with a smile.

Katyusha had left a note for them in the kitchen informing them she was spending the night elsewhere and would be back late tomorrow. That was all they needed to know before making a dash for Ivan's room and its nice big bed, shedding clothes as they went. Somewhere in the back of his brain, Alfred noted that they had been able to go straight from walking in to stripping—Ivan frequently had to excuse himself first. It was probably something work-related.

"Vanya," Alfred gasped as they collapsed onto the bed together. "We... we get all night together! No work, nobody else around to interrupt..."

"I know." Ivan kissed him. "So there's no need to rush." And he scooted under the blanket and rolled over.

"What?" Alfred nudged him. "Hey now!" Ivan chuckled, and Alfred rolled his eyes. "Are you trying to be funny again? You'd better watch it, next time I might agree with you or something." He yanked the blanket down, but it was too late. Even the dumbest things Ivan did in an attempt at humor struck Alfred as extra funny, and he was laughing too hard to do anything sexy.

"You are precious," Ivan said, pulling Alfred close. Alfred just giggled helplessly. "I did not think it was that funny."

"It wasn't, dammit!"

"Mm. I think I had better do you first."

* * *

"Man, look at this place." Matthew wrinkled his nose as he swept his gaze around at the snooty décor, and equally snooty diners. "It looks like somewhere my brother would go these days."

Francis chuckled. "Think of the tips, though."

"I know!" Matthew stepped back to avoid a waiter that strode by with a bottle of champagne. "And you don't get any of this, huh?"

"Not a thing." Francis sighed. "Having rich restaurant-owning parents would be nice. Having rich restaurant-owning aunt and uncle and spoiled cousins doesn't help."

"Well at least they're letting you work here."

"Maybe. I don't know yet. I don't have the waiter background you do."

Matthew smiled and elbowed him. "That was one summer at a diner."

"Still more than me, _mon cher_. My place is behind a stove. Shame they flat out said no to that idea."

Matthew slunk further into the shadows as the occasional diner glanced their way. He wasn't entirely sure how he would survive _working_ there all summer, but maybe once he was in a waiter ensemble it would be okay. Until he screwed up his first order or something. Well, assuming he got a job in a place like this, which was highly unlikely.

"Ah, there they are!" Francis tugged Matthew along by the arm, introducing him to the older, nicely dressed French couple. They asked him about his restaurant experience, and he described the summer before his final year of high school when he worked in a diner. Their unimpressed expressions did not bode well for any future summer employment. And they quickly lost interest.

"It was worth a shot," Francis said with an apologetic shrug.

"Thanks for trying," Matthew said. "I'll try less fancy places. It would be nice to surprise Alfred with a summer job when he gets home!"

Matthew jumped back in surprise when the French couple returned so quickly they seemed to have materialized.

"Did you say Alfred?" the woman said, eyes wide. "And your name is Jones?"

"Uh, yes." Matthew frowned. "He's my brother."

The couple exchanged a look, and Matthew could have sworn they looked... worried? Freaked out?

"Can you start the first week of July?"

He was too stunned to even notice they were asking him to start working the week of his birthday. "I... really?" They nodded, and Matthew dumbly mimicked the gesture. "Yeah, okay! Great. Um, thank you!"

They made a hasty retreat, and Matthew turned on Francis, who looked just as baffled. "How do they know Alfred?" he exclaimed, then squeaked and scooted further into a corner when people turned to look.

"They could not," Francis said quietly. "Or they would have thought you were him."

"I suppose so... So why...?"

"Ivan," Francis said. "It has to be. He probably comes here a lot, and has talked about his darling _petit ami_." He shook his head, chuckling. "My aunt and uncle... they are fond of sucking up to their rich patrons."

"Maybe..." Wouldn't they have looked... happier at the idea of sucking up to a rich patron? How very strange.

* * *

_Sorry if you were expecting more actual Russia. I just wasn't in the mood for writing a chapter about tourism. XD_


	18. Chapter 18

_Another friendly hello and shout-out to all the awesome readers and reviewers. I'm so glad you're enjoying this!_

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

"I wish you didn't have to leave so soon," Ivan said, holding Alfred close. The next time they were together, it would be back in Ivan's other life, with all the stress and worry. Why did everything have to be so hard? If only they could just stay put, but that was impossible. The last few days had been incredible; just carefree days spent almost entirely with his lover, and also with the sister he missed. Alfred had been excited and enthusiastic about everything they had seen. Ivan couldn't wait until their next trip, when he could show Alfred more of Russia than Moscow.

"Me, too," Alfred sighed. He pulled away slightly to smile at Ivan, and Ivan stroked his cheek. Alfred closed his eyes, nuzzling into the hand, and Ivan almost felt overwhelmed by his affection for him.

But all vacations had to end. And as much as Ivan didn't like returning home to their busy lives... he did kind of miss his work.

"This has definitely been a nice break," Ivan said. "I'll be back home in just a few more days."

Alfred nodded. "What do you plan on doing for that time?"

"Not a thing."

"Nice!" He planted a kiss on Ivan's lips. "And next time you need to get away from it all, give me a bit of warning, hm?"

"Of course." Ivan returned the favor with a kiss of his own. "Thank you."

"For what?"

Ivan smiled. "For everything, Al."

* * *

Ivan was true to his word—after Alfred was gone, he was determined to enjoy his vacation to the fullest, and not do a damned thing. He sighed pleasantly as he lay on the couch with a newspaper, amusing himself by reading about other people's crimes.

"He's very nice," Katyusha said, bringing Ivan a drink.

"He is," Ivan said.

"You have to tell him, you know."

Ivan winced. That was the _last_ thing he wanted to do. "That will ruin everything."

"Him finding out on his own will ruin everything faster," she said with a stern look.

"If it will ruin our relationship either way, why should I tell him?"

Katyusha sighed. "Maybe because you're lying to him?"

Ivan said nothing for a while. If they kept this up, she would hit every nerve until she undid all the relaxation he had accomplished on his vacation.

"I'm a big boy. I know what I'm doing."

Katyusha gave him a sad look before returning to the kitchen.

* * *

"Mattie!" Alfred shoved his bags aside and hurtled toward his brother. "Goddamn I missed you!"

Matthew laughed as he struggled to keep his balance, hugging Alfred. "I doubt that."

"I did! I was thinking of you the whole time!"

"I hope not the _whole_ time." Matthew grinned. "So how was it?" He peeled Alfred off so that he could retrieve the dumped bags.

"Sheesh, you don't have to unpack the second I walk in the door." Alfred followed after him. "And it was awesome! Just the two of us—well, and with his sister, but she left us alone a lot—and no work or having to leave after just a few hours together... Oh, and the country's nice, too!" And he followed Matthew around as he unpacked for him, going on and on about Russia and Ivan. He didn't remember most of the names of the things and places they had visited, but he made an attempt. He wasn't sure why Matthew kept cringing at his pronunciation—it wasn't like _he_ knew Russian, and knew how badly Alfred was mangling the words.

Once the info was all spilled out, Alfred sat his twin down and gave him a more illustrated version of events, flipping through the plethora of pictures on his camera.

Matthew finally escaped by reminding Alfred that he needed to get up early and was tired.

"Oh, all right," Alfred said. "It's still like seven in the morning to me."

"Well, you need to get back on our time." Matthew removed himself from the camera, heading for the bathroom. "Don't stay up too late."

"I don't wanna get my sleeping schedule too screwed up." Alfred made a face. He loved his job, but maybe he should have kept the one with normal day hours.

"I know." The bathroom door closed, then opened again. Matthew's head poked out. "Oh, and I got a job."

Alfred looked sharply at him in surprise. "What?"

"A summer job! I'll be a waiter."

"A summer job? Really?" Alfred's grin widened. "That's awesome!"

"Kind of weird, actually, but I'll tell you about it later." The door closed again.

"What? Hey, tell me now!"

"It's at this fancy French restaurant Francis' aunt and uncle own," Matthew said from the other side of the door. "They pretty much took one look at me and damn near laughed at the absurdity of me working there. Then they overheard me mention you, and gave me the job as quick as possible."

"Really?" Alfred pursed his lips. "I've never been to their restaurant."

"Has Ivan? Maybe they know him, and know about you."

"Why would that get you a job?"

"That's what I want to know! Francis thinks they're just sucking up."

"Oh!" Alfred nodded to himself. "That's probably it. People like to suck up."

"I guess so..."

"So that's great! A summer job! We'll have to celebrate."

"I'd feel more celebratory if I had gotten a job based on my own merits."

Alfred laughed. "But think of the tips you'll get there!"

"Yeah, Francis already commented on that."

"Ohh, spend a lot of time with Francis while I was gone?" Alfred smirked, even though Mattie couldn't see it.

"Shut up! What else was I going to do?"

"You have other friends."

"Yeah, well... they don't put out!"

Alfred chuckled. "Keep telling yourself that."

* * *

Matthew awoke early, the room still fully dark. He peered at the clock beside his bed, sighing when his fuzzy brain figured out that he still had an hour before he had to get up. Something was pressed close to his back and he had to pause and wonder just who had spent the night.

He managed to glance over his shoulder without moving too much, chuckling softly at the sight of a blond head poking out from beneath the covers.

_Must've been lonely all by himself in his bed, first night home._ Matthew mused. _Poor Al._ He closed his eyes and tried to fall back asleep.

* * *

"It's good to have you back, boss," Toris said, pouring Ivan a drink.

Ivan nodded. "Good to see everything's gone smoothly."

"We managed. Fortunately there were no major problems."

"How go the pictures?"

Toris shook his head. "He hasn't even gone near his mistress in weeks. It's like he knows there's a blackmail attempt."

"Damn. He can't stay away forever, though." Ivan swirled his drink around.

"The only real problem at the moment is Natalia is already working, and someone else is eager to hire her, though she may be gone a while."

Ivan set the glass aside, sitting up. "Who?"

"The target is Kevin Porter. The CEO of-"

"I know who he is." Ivan smiled, getting to his feet. "I'll take care of it myself. Come."

"You will?"

"A romantic getaway is wonderful. But I just want to make sure I didn't get too much vacation and lose my touch."

Toris grabbed a weapon and hurried after him. "I'm sure you haven't..."

"How very thoughtful of you to say. Now come on."

* * *

"Oh, thank god..." Matthew set his bag and books aside for the last time. Until autumn, anyway. "No more _studying_!"

Alfred beamed at him from over the top of a comic book. "And no more being shushed or shooed away _because_ you're studying."

"And I get a week to relax before starting work..."

"Yeah! Did you find out if you have to work on our birthday?"

"I don't."

"Awesome!" Alfred tossed the comic away, and Matthew automatically picked it up. "I'll adjust my sleeping schedule a bit so we can get an early start." Alfred gave his brother a friendly slap on the back. "So. Now that you aren't in school hanging out with people, you'll have to come up with some other excuse to hook up with your boyfriend."

"Al!"

"What?" Alfred put on his best innocent face. "You've been dating him as long as I've been with Ivan. You haven't once considered somebody else to date or screw. And I know for a fact your dates don't always end in sex!"

"How do you know _that_?" Matthew sputtered.

"Uh, because you come home early, alone? I mean, you might have gotten some, but it was from yourself."

"Alfred!"

"I think it's cool! We've done everything else together, may as well include finding boyfriends."

"You didn't even like him!"

"No, but he's been better about hitting on me..."

"Not when you're around, anyway," Matthew said, sheepish.

"Geez..."

"Sorry."

"At least he doesn't hit on Ivan."

"Not when he's around, anyway."

Alfred laughed helplessly. "Oh dear."

* * *

Trying to catch his breath, Ivan rolled off of Alfred, settling beside him and tugging him close.

"Mm, stay there..." Alfred murmured. "I like you on me."

Ivan gave a tired smile. "It's very nice for sex. Not so much for sleep. You would wake up squished."

"That's okay. It would be happy squished."

"I see. And I still think I should take the couch and you should go to your own bed..."

"Naaah, Mattie's staying the night elsewhere. If he didn't want me borrowing his bed when he's away, he wouldn't have gotten a bigger bed than me in the first place."

"We will have to do his laundry for him..."

Alfred glanced down at what they had done to his brother's sheets. "Yeah."

"And you need to get a bigger bed."

"No point. I'm not gonna live here forever..." Alfred's sex-happy face grew melancholy. "I've never not lived with him."

Ivan kissed him. "But he will always be there, even if not in your house."

"I know." Alfred burrowed close, tucking his head under Ivan's chin. "Let's stay like this."

Ivan wrapped an arm around him. "I'd like that."

"I love you, Vanya."

Ivan stroked a hand through Alfred's damp hair, wondering what good in his life he had done to deserve this. "I love you, too."

* * *

Alfred sang quietly to himself as he wiped down the bar. He didn't know many of the lyrics, and substituted most of the words with humming and 'doo doo'ing. It was hard to not be in a good mood. Tomorrow, after all, was their birthday. They had a big day full of fun and treats and friends planned. And then Ivan had a big night planned, though he had kept those plans to himself. Alfred was looking forward to finding out what they were.

The door swung open, admitting a pair of men. Alfred glanced up at them with a smile. "Sorry guys, closing time." They just looked at him, almost curious. They appeared to be brothers, with auburn hair and nice suits. One had a bit of a squint, it was kind of cute. "But hey, I think I can whip up two more drinks. Go ahead and come on in."

"Thank you," the darker haired of the two said. Smiling, the brothers let the door shut and approached the bar.


	19. Chapter 19

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

Okay, Ivan was starting to get worried. What the hell were the boys doing? He knew that they were doing their own birthday thing, and his plans with Alfred weren't until later, but why couldn't he get a hold of him? Of either of them? Neither Alfred nor Matthew were answering their phones, and nobody answered when he knocked on their door.

Chances were good that they were doing something stupid, but that didn't stop worry from creeping into Ivan. He had always been able to somehow contact Alfred when he wanted to.

He considered calling Francis, but quickly changed his mind with a grimace. He did not want to think about both twins at the Frenchman's place in the morning. So he tried the only other thing he could think of. Alfred had worked the night before; maybe he could find a clue there.

Ivan stepped out of the car at the familiar street corner, and froze, heart missing a beat. The open sign was unlit, during the bar's open hours. There was a police car parked there.

Just a coincidence. It had to be. Somebody probably broke in while the place was closed. The boys were most likely passed out somewhere, already wasted.

The door was unlocked, so Ivan swept in. He took a deep breath, trying to fight down the rising panic at the sight of the bar's interior. Chairs were overturned on the floor. Shards of glass and pools of alcohol were scattered around where bottles had been thrown. The bar's owner was talking to Alfred's blonde co-worker, both looking worried, and a familiar police officer was talking to... Alfred!

Ivan paused for a moment, savoring the sight of his beloved, safe and sound, shoulders shaking as he cried. He must have been robbed during work. Officer Kirkland was patiently listening to whatever teary story Alfred was telling him.

The moment passed, and Ivan rushed over to the pair, gathering the boy into his arms. "Alfred! I was so worried when I could not get in touch with you. I am glad you are all right! Were you robbed?"

Alfred had gone stiff in his arms. "Ivan..." he said, voice hoarse. "Goddammit. I'm _not Alfred_."

Ivan jerked away, staring at the tearstained face in horror. _No..._ Matthew was here, talking to the cops, crying. Ivan went cold. _No no no..._ "What... what happened...?" He didn't want to know. It was hard to breathe.

Matthew didn't answer, just looked away, wrapping his arms around himself.

"That's what we're trying to find out," Kirkland said in his clipped accent, eyeing Ivan with suspicion. "The owner came to open up this morning, and found the door still unlocked. The bar was in disarray, as you can see, and there was some blood." Ivan's heart froze again. "He called Alfred Jones' home, but only found his brother, who said Alfred had never come home last night." He folded his arms. "And how do you know Mr. Jones, Braginsky?"

Ivan said nothing. He stared into space, mouth hanging open slightly, mind reeling. He kept mentally repeating _No_ over and over.

"Well?"

"He's Alfred's boyfriend," Matthew said. "How do you know Ivan?"

Kirkland ignored the question. "Well. That does make this a bit less mysterious."

Ivan slowly turned back to look at him, swallowing thickly against the strangling panic. "It's... my fault?" Of course it was. If something happened to Alfred, it would have to be his fault.

"It does seem likely, don't you think?"

"Because he's rich?" Matthew asked softly.

Kirkland sighed. "No, not because he's rich."

Matthew turned on Ivan, who avoided his eyes, still trying to remember to breathe. Matthew's eyes narrowed.

"They don't know what I am," Ivan murmured to the cop. "Neither of them." There was still a chance it _was_ because Ivan was rich. There was always a chance it was kidnappers who wanted money.

Not a very good chance... "You tell him."

Kirkland shrugged. "If you like. Ivan Braginsky is the head of the local branch of the Russian mafia."

A long pause, though Matthew didn't look quite as shocked as he should have. "Oh," Matthew finally said, much too calm. "I see. Well. That explains a few things." He stared blankly for a moment, before his face contorted in rage and he launched himself at Ivan. Though he was smaller than Ivan, he was still as broad and strong as Alfred, and they went crashing to the floor. Matthew screamed incoherently at Ivan—though the words 'lies' and 'deceive' figured prominently—and punched him in the jaw. Ivan did nothing, and Matthew hit him again, and again, until he was dragged away, struggling.

"Bloody hell!" Officer Kirkland said, holding Matthew back. "Are you suicidal, lad?"

"Oh, he already gave me permission..." Matthew said darkly. His struggles had ceased, and the cop released him.

"That is correct," Ivan said, slowly sitting up. "I-"

"Shut up," Matthew hissed. "You're disgusting. You're a selfish bastard! Do you care anything for Alfred at all? Was any of that good guy act he fell for true? I can't believe this whole time you've been lying and using him, putting him in danger, all for your own sel-"

Ivan was on his feet in an instant, dragging Matthew to eye level by his collar. "Don't." Matthew gaped at him, eyes widening. Apparently it was dawning on him just _what_ Ivan was. "Do not say those things. They are not true."

"But..."

"Lying, yes. I have lied to Alfred. To keep him safe, to keep him from being scared, to have him know who I really am, inside. To keep him from _leaving._ I have not _used_ him for my selfish needs." Had he? Was it selfish to want uncompromised love from a good person? "I have been nothing but genuine when I have been with him. The Ivan he loves is the real Ivan. There's just another side to me. I hated lying, but I didn't know what else to do."

"And you sure kept him safe," Matthew muttered. "Put me down."

Ivan released him, digging into an inner pocket. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Officer Kirkland reaching cautiously for his gun. Ignoring him, Ivan pulled out a box and tossed it to Matthew. "That was my gift to give Alfred today. Do you still believe I'm just a selfish bastard using him?"

Matthew opened the box, frowning at it. He removed the shiny object inside. "It's very nice, but we don't wear rings. It..." He trailed off, shoulders sagging. "Oh. You were going to..."

"You can hang onto it," Ivan said. Because he wanted Alfred to get the ring, even if Ivan did not survive whatever it took to get him back. "I have something for you, too." He handed Matthew another gift he had tucked away.

Matthew gave him a curious look as he tore the paper off and popped the lid up. "Oh. It's lovely." He smiled wanly as he removed the polar bear figurine. By then, the cop had left them alone to talk with the others.

An awkward silence passed between them, both lost in their own grief. Then Ivan took a deep breath. "I couldn't have lovers, you know. Not real ones."

"What?"

"With other men in the mafia, they just cared about power. Or were afraid of me. Or whatever, but they could never love me in that way. Everyone else, they were just plain afraid of me. Or disgusted. They walk away once I tell them. Then I met your brother, and he was... just the most wonderful person I had ever met, and we talked and he treated me like a normal human being. And I just couldn't bring myself to ruin that."

Matthew toyed with the bear, then set it aside. "And what were you planning on doing after you _married_ him? Keep up the lie forever? Or tell him after the honeymoon, figuring it's too late for him to back out?"

"I don't know..."

"God..." Matthew covered his face with his hands. "Now he's..."

Ivan shivered. He was trying desperately to not dwell on where Alfred was now. _Is he scared? Is he hurting? Is he crying? Is he dead?_

Matthew reached out behind himself, feeling for a chair before dropping into it. "He... and on our..." His shoulders shook. "And on top of everything, I'm probably gonna lose my job on my first week, how am I supposed to go in to work tomorrow and smile at everyone?" He looked up at Ivan in surprise. "I won't, will I?"

Ivan tilted his head, not understanding.

"They wouldn't fire me. Why they hired me... why it suddenly seemed like everyone treats us right once they find out who Alfred is. Because they're afraid of you! They all know who you are, and..." He clenched his hands into trembling fists. "Everybody knows! _Everybody!_ They all know what you are and that Alfred is your boyfriend! How did you _not_ see this coming!" Matthew started to laugh hysterically. "You doomed him from the start, but it's okay because you were in _love_!"

"You should go home," Ivan said. He just couldn't find it in him to be angry at Matthew. Why should he? He was angry at himself.

The miserable young man nodded. "Francis should be here soon..."

"Oh, you called him?"

"Yeah... I asked him to meet me here. I didn't say why, but he could probably tell I was upset..." Tears again filled Matthew's red, swollen eyes. "We might've been opening our presents now. I bet he got me something nice. He acts stupid, but he pays attention. I could notice something I liked in a store tomorrow and make a passing comment about it, and he'd remember and get it for me on our next birthday."

"I'll find him," Ivan said quietly. "Or die trying." He finally turned away, unable to look at Alfred's grieving twin any longer. His own eyes burned with unshed tears.

The door soon opened to admit Francis, who strode through the bar—which was looking a bit better now, the owner and bartender having been cleaning up some—looking around in confusion. His eyes lit on the cop, and he made a beeline in that direction. "Well hello, officer~"

Kirkland eyed him. "I beg your pardon?"

"Oh. British." Francis walked away, noticing Matthew and heading over. "There you are." It had always struck Ivan as odd that Francis never mixed the twins up. Ever. He could come across one when he was expecting to find the other, and still not make a mistake. "I've come to pick you up. What is wrong?" He looked around. "Why are you here? A robbery?"

Matthew slowly looked up at him, and Francis' face fell at the look of utter misery. "Alfred's been kidnapped," he said dully. "Ivan's head of the Russian mafia. The two are probably related."

Francis started to laugh, though it quickly trailed off at the looks on their faces. "You are serious?" He turned on Ivan, eyes wide.

And so the cycle of accusation started over, only Ivan was much less tolerant of Francis and the Frenchman was soon cowed into just comforting Matthew.

"Take him home," Ivan said. "I need to get the hell out of here." And do... what? Getting drunk, killing people, sending everyone in his house away so he could rage... nothing would help. He would just have to concentrate on finding Alfred. On planning what to do when the kidnappers contacted him. If he didn't hear from them... well, Alfred was probably dead then...

Fighting down a wave of nausea, Ivan fled from the bar.

* * *

"I don't know..." Matthew bit his lip. "I should wait."

"Open it," Francis said gently.

He let out a breath and tore into the present from Alfred. The box contained a lot of tissue, which he flipped aside to reveal a picture book.

"Hmm." Francis tilted his head. "He didn't think much of your reading abilities."

"Oh..." Matthew lifted the book up, eyes filling with tears again. "No, this was one of our favorite books when we were little. I think I mentioned it a while back." He hugged it close to his chest as the tears spilled down his cheeks. "What am I gonna do?"

"I don't know... They're looking for him. And once we hear from-"

"Hear from _who_?" Matthew snapped, setting the book aside. "If they took Al because they want money from Ivan, then yeah, we'd probably hear from them. But if they're just... rival mafia, or other enemies of his... they'd just kill him! His body's probably in a ditch somewhere! Or at the bottom of a river!"

"You shouldn't think that way..."

Matthew stared at the floor, unable to stop thinking of Alfred's dead body, discarded somewhere like trash. He had to be dead. All because of the one person he had trusted and loved above all others. "It all makes so much sense now..."

"What does?" Francis said, voice low and soothing.

"Everything. The way Ivan looked like he would really kill you when he met you. The way something often seemed off and almost creepy about his smile. People at fancy restaurants and other places Ivan would frequent being scared of Al and being super nice to us-"

"Whoa whoa!" Francis stood, eyes wide. "Are you saying my aunt and uncle have dealings with the mafia?"

"They know him, anyway. Know him enough that they wouldn't even dream of turning down his boyfriend's brother for a job. Just how horrible _is_ he?"

Francis didn't answer, eyes trailing to the remaining presents on the table. The ones that would remain unopened. "What did you get him?"

"A model. Of a Republic P-47 Thunderbolt."

"A what?"

"World War Two plane." Matthew smiled. "Want some cake?"

"I don't know if-"

"Just get it, okay?"

Francis nodded, sighing, and went to fetch the chocolate cake from the kitchen. He set it down on the table, and Matthew added two candles. Francis lit them.

Matthew made a wish, and blew one of the candles out.

"You missed one," Francis said, but seemed to instantly regret the comment.

"It's not mine." Matthew buried his face in his arms, body trembling as he cried. He didn't notice Francis sadly pinching out the other candle.


	20. Chapter 20

_Hee! You know the model plane I mentioned last chapter? It was just a completely random WWII plane I picked from a list of WWII planes. Not long ago, I saw that very plane model displayed prominently in the window of a hobby shop. XD I had to do a double take. It was funny. I guess you had to have been there..._

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

A nice poker game was just getting good, the air filled with laughter and cigar smoke. Toris put down his bet. Yuri folded. Aleksei did, too, and Toris laughed. He raised his eyebrows at Eduard.

They never got to find out Eduard's move. The door slammed open and Ivan stormed into the room like a hurricane, flinging the table aside with one swipe of his hand. Chips and cards and alcohol went flying. The men scattered with shouts of alarm.

"Boss!" Raivis yelped, especially worried as he had long ago been forbidden from joining in on the adults' games. He trembled when Ivan's horrifying gaze fell on him, but it quickly passed him over to take in everyone else.

"Someone has kidnapped Alfred," Ivan said, voice deadly quiet. "My bets are on the Italians, but we don't know for sure."

"Oh no," Toris gasped.

"I want you to find out for sure. I want you to find _him_. The police are working on it, but we all know how competent they are..." The men smiled slightly and nodded, and Ivan's glare intensified. "_Go!_"

They bolted, tripping over each other in their haste to get away. All but one, who stood his ground and stared nervously at his feet.

"You do not wish to go, Aleksei?" Ivan had never liked the man.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah... well, boss, it's just that... you don't need all of us, do you? There's other things that need to be done besides looking for the kid..."

Ivan smiled at him. "You're right, of course."

"You think so?"

"I do. He's only one person, yes?"

Aleksei nodded, looking relieved.

"So you continue with your gaming, and whatever other important business you have."

"Boss?"

Ivan's smile never wavered as he pulled a gun out, taking aim at the terrified man. Aleksei had probably never moved so fast in his life, scrambling toward the door. Ivan didn't even especially care if he hit or not when he fired, and the bullet slammed into the wall where Aleksei's head had been an instant before.

"I missed," Ivan sighed. He glanced toward the men who had returned to investigate. "Oh well. Does anyone else have anything better to do?"

Nobody did.

* * *

Alfred wondered how much time had passed. There was no way of knowing, in an unlit basement with no windows. His foot itched, but he was thoroughly tied to a chair and couldn't do much about that. He was hungry, but hadn't seen anybody since they had first tied him up and left. He was still sore from the initial attack. What did those nice-seeming brothers want with him? Money, he figured. It had to be about money. Access to Ivan's money was the only thing Alfred had that anyone would want!

Ivan... he must be so worried. And Mattie. Alfred felt a twinge of guilt, knowing they were upset because of him. The kidnappers had looked so small and weak, how could they have overpowered him? Well, he _had_ been holding his own pretty well, until their larger blond friend had joined in.

When the doorway finally creaked open, Alfred wasn't sure whether to be more worried or relieved. He swallowed and assured himself that he was not at all afraid at the sound of footsteps descending the stairs.

Relief overpowered worry at the smell of food. _Good_ smelling food. He had no idea how long it had been since he last had something to eat, but it felt like days, though he knew that couldn't be right.

A bare bulb hanging from the ceiling was clicked on, and Alfred winced at the sudden onslaught of light. Standing before him was one of the brothers, the one with the squint. He was holding a plate of spaghetti.

"I thought you might be hungry," he said. He had an accent, but Alfred had never been good at placing most accents. Spanish? It sounded familiar, he could have sworn he'd heard that accent somewhere before. "Do you like spaghetti, Mr. Jones? Can I call you Alfred?"

"You kidnapped me and tied me up," Alfred muttered. "You can probably do what you like."

"Sorry..." The possibly Spanish young man (he couldn't have been much older than Alfred!) set the steaming plate aside and untied Alfred's arms. He plunked the plate down by Alfred, watching almost expectantly.

"It's good," Alfred said after sampling a bite. The other smiled, but made no move to leave, probably wouldn't until Alfred was finished and safely tied back up. "So why don't you tell me what the hell you're doing with me?"

"You need to ask?" he said, almost sounding sad.

"Uh. Yeah. I mean, I figure it's for ransom money, but..."

"Ransom money?" He tilted his head, forehead wrinkling. "Why would we want money? We are very wealthy."

Alfred froze. If they didn't want money... "Who are you?"

He seemed utterly baffled that Alfred didn't know. "We are Cosa Nostra."

"I don't speak Spanish."

"It's Italian. Well, Sicilian. We're _mafia_."

"Mafia?" Alfred paused in his eating again. The mafia? The _mafia_? What did _they_ want with him? "I think you've got the wrong guy." It was all just a mistake. "Mistaken identity, perhaps?" Wait. What had Matthew gotten himself into?

"I don't think so," the Italian said, gesturing for Alfred to keep eating. "Our enemies are the Russian mafia. You're their leader's lover. Unless there's another Alfred Jones who looks like you, you're the one we want."

What...? Alfred set the plate aside, no longer hungry. "That's ridiculous. I am not."

"You really don't know?"

"That's either really funny or really sad," another voice said, and the other Italian joined them, stomping down the stairs. "You'd have to be pretty stupid and blind to be dating Ivan Braginsky all this time and not know that."

Alfred flinched at the mention of his name, throat closing. That couldn't be true! Ivan was the sweetest man he knew. "You're lying."

"Nope, sorry."

"You are! He's a nice, sweet, loving person."

"So am I!" the first brother said.

"When we're not working," the other added.

"He wouldn't lie to me!"

The darker-haired brother snorted. "Would you start dating a mafia boss?"

"Of course not!"

"There you go, then. That's why he lied."

"But..." Alfred looked back and forth between them, desperately looking for signs of lying. That made no sense at all! Ivan was no criminal. He... well, yes, he had a lot more money than a small business owner should have when he didn't come from a rich family. And Alfred still wasn't entirely sure just what that business was. And he had a lot of Russiany people hanging around his house. And people had started treating Alfred with fear and respect, and Ivan didn't like taking Alfred to places he frequented where he would be known... and...

"I think it's dawning on him," the second Italian said.

"No!" Alfred said, trying to shake off the sensation of drowning. "No, he... he isn't a criminal. Oh! We were mugged!" _Not a mugger_, his traitorous mind said, _didn't demand our money, was dressed too nice, knew who he was, just wanted to kill him.._. "Ivan didn't do anything! He was freaked out. If he really _was_ what you say he is, he'd have been much more kickass."

"Unless he was with somebody he didn't want to reveal himself to. Are you done with that? We'd really like to tie you back up and go."

"I'm done..."

The darker-haired one picked up the half-eaten spaghetti and left. The remaining brother gazed sadly at Alfred. "I'm sorry we had to be the ones to tell you. That was very rude of him to keep secrets."

Alfred stared dully at him. "So what... what do you want from Ivan, if not money?"

"Something he won't like, and probably won't agree to." The Italian sighed, stooping over to retie Alfred's arms to the chair. "And if he doesn't, we'll have to kill you. I'm _really_ sorry!" He backed away and turned the light off, plunging Alfred back into darkness, then retreated up the stairs. The door slammed shut, and Alfred allowed his tears to fall freely.

"That bastard..." he whispered brokenly. "He... he lied! He betrayed me!" He thought of all the times he had told Ivan everything, had told Ivan he could never lie to him. Ivan had never said that in return.

No no, he was letting his kidnappers get to him. Ivan couldn't be a criminal, he would never deceive Alfred.

"Oh, who am I kidding?" Alfred shivered. It made too damn much sense. His mind replayed their relationship for him, every interaction that could have had a hidden meaning, or seemed suspicious but had been brushed aside. He even remembered the time he had jokingly asked Ivan the cheesy 'is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?' Ivan had looked slightly panicked. He was not a fan of anything Italian, save for the restaurant Alfred used to work for, which had always seemed like an oddly random prejudice. Alfred remembered the times Ivan showed up with assorted injuries, or limps, and came up with stupid excuses for them like some poor abused wife. The times he conveniently had to be elsewhere when cops were around.

Alfred felt his life crumble around him. It had all been a lie. Ivan was out cheating and swindling and robbing and then going to Alfred's bed afterward and lying about everything.

And yet... Alfred just couldn't hate him. He couldn't believe that Ivan had lied about loving him. Nobody was that good of an actor. Nobody would feign love just to get laid, when one was a powerful mob boss who could fuck anyone they wanted. The Italians seemed to think Ivan had lied so as not to be rejected...

But he still lied and deceived. He still did... god knew what. Horrible illegal stuff. He... hurt people (Alfred's brain shied away from the 'k' word). It was next to impossible to wrap his brain around the idea of Ivan—sweet, adorable, adoring, perfect Ivan—doing anything like that. For the first time in this ordeal, Alfred thought that this couldn't be happening.

But it was. And what did any of that matter when Alfred was going to die soon, anyway?

The door soon banged open again and heavy footsteps rapidly moved down the stairs. Alfred again went through the process of being blinded by the abrupt light, until he was able to make out the newcomer. It was the third kidnapper. He was tall, stern-looking, and his blond hair was slicked back. He did not look Italian.

"They kind of forgot one of the jobs I gave them," he said, in yet another accent. German? "Is it true you didn't know about Braginsky?"

"Shut up."

The German just shrugged. He bent, tugging something out of his boot. A knife. Alfred cringed, struggling against the ropes. Were they going to kill him already? Had Ivan already given his answer? Just because the love of his life was a fucking liar and his life was pretty much meaningless and over didn't mean Alfred actually wanted to die.

"Stop fidgeting. I need to send the bastard a note."

"Don't call him that!" Alfred said, regardless of the fact he had been doing the same. He had the right to, after all. The German stepped closer and Alfred swallowed. He sat up straight, determined to meet any fate with dignity.

The blond reached out and grabbed Alfred's hair—specifically, the cowlick that always stuck up. With one sweep of his blade, he severed the lock of hair.

"Hey!" Alfred yelped.

He eyed the captive. "Are you seriously whining about losing something that will grow back...?" The unspoken threat hung in the air, and Alfred quickly shook his head.

"What do you want from him?" Alfred again asked.

The German smoothed the lock of hair between his fingers. "We don't like the Russian mafia."

"I gathered."

"We'd like them to leave."

"Oh, you're just asking them to leave?"

"Most of them." He turned to leave, clicking off the light. "Except Braginsky."

"You'll kill him?" Alfred said weakly.

"Good guess." And Alfred was once again left alone in the dark room, with nothing for company but his miserable, confused thoughts, and the overwhelming feeling of betrayal.


	21. Chapter 21

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

"You don't need to work today," another waiter said, passing by with a tray of drinks. "They've been very understanding about your situation."

Matthew snorted. Understanding, right. That was because Francis had been quick to take advantage of their newfound connections. He had secured himself a job, as well as ensured Matthew would keep his even during this unpleasant time of family emergency, by implying that Ivan would be _very unhappy_ otherwise. It was disgusting. "I'm fine."

"You're not. You look terrible."

"Seriously, I'm fine."

The waiter sighed. "You've been walking around with those same steaks for a lot longer than necessary. What table are they going to?"

"Uh..."

"Go home."

Matthew gave up. "Okay."

So Matthew left work early and made his way home. He changed into more comfortable clothes, and turned the television on to keep himself company. He watched game shows until thirst sent him to the kitchen, and he stared into the fridge. Did he want beer or juice? Root beer or milk? He turned, eyeing the bottle of vodka Alfred had picked up in Moscow. That looked good. He turned back to the fridge, pondering, then swung it shut and marched over to the bottle. He would get lost in oblivion...

But before he could open it, a knock came at the door. Matthew swallowed thickly, afraid of what news was being brought to him. He set the vodka down and shuffled back to the living room as the knocking continued. Standing on the other side of the door was Ivan. Matthew's eyes narrowed, hand twitching with desire to just slam the door shut again.

His heart lurched at Ivan's expression. It was like he was terrifyingly pissed and about to cry, all at the same time. Not a good sign.

"They found his body?" Matthew said dully.

Ivan's amethyst eyes flashed. "No."

"Then what is it?"

Ivan held up an envelope with his name on it. "I received this today. I thought we might see what it says together."

Matthew stared at the envelope, a gasp escaping. "Is that from...?" If it was, that meant Alfred was probably alive!

"I would assume so." He stepped into the room, tearing the envelope open. "Oh."

"Oh?" Matthew repeated, voice climbing an octave.

Ivan removed a familiar lock of hair, and Matthew dropped onto the couch, unable to tear his eyes away. "Oh..."

"It's okay," Ivan said softly. "They could have lopped off something a lot worse." He set the hair aside and tugged out the sheet of paper, eyes scanning its contents. Matthew watched him, on the verge of panic. He was just about to rip the note away to read it himself when Ivan heaved a sigh. "I knew it was them."

"Who, dammit?"

"The mafia. The Italian mafia, that is."

Matthew drew his knees up to his chest, stomach plummeting. "Fuck. What the hell do they want?"

"They want the Russian mafia to go away. Preferably to Russia. Except for me." Ivan gave a humorless, chilling laugh. "They want me to turn myself in to them. To kill."

"Oh god..."

"Within the week, or they'll kill him."

"So it's you or him..."

"It seems that way." Ivan settled onto the couch beside Matthew. "I will do whatever it takes to get him back. I will try and rescue him with nobody dying—except _them_ if at all possible—but if I cannot, I will do what they say."

"Ivan..." It was hard to hate somebody after they said something like that.

"Hopefully it won't come to that. I do have an idea."

Matthew looked up sharply, breath catching. "You do?" He didn't dare hope.

Ivan nodded, crossing his arms. "I just happen to know somebody with a bit of an inside edge who owes me a favor."

* * *

"Let me go!" Alfred said the second the door swung open. Another day tied to a chair in the dark had done wonders for his pride. "What the hell is wrong with you? I don't have anything to do with your goddamn mob wars. Leave us alone!"

"I'm sorry!" the nicer Italian said, turning the light on and setting a plate of lasagna and bottle of water down.

"You even said you don't think it'll work! So this is pointless!"

"Not entirely." He again untied Alfred's arms so he could eat.

"It is! Do you know what will happen if you kill me? Ivan will kill _all_ of you!" Of that he had no doubt. He probably would have thought that before knowing what Ivan was.

"We'll see. Do you like that?"

Alfred stretched his sore arms, then tried a bite of lasagna. "Yeah, it's good. What did you mean, not entirely?"

The Italian wouldn't meet Alfred's eyes. "Well... we figure, after going to all this trouble, we should get _something_ for it, even if it's not what we want. Even if it's only money."

"I don't have any money."

"No... but two things we deal in are human trafficking, and organ trafficking. We'll have to figure out which way would be more profitable."

Alfred stared at him in growing horror, mind shuddering away from either option. "You can't do that..."

"Sorry."

"You can't! That's..."

"The sort of thing your boyfriend does."

Alfred shook his head. "I don't care what you say, he wouldn't do something so evil!"

He opened his squinty eyes, glaring at Alfred. "He beats people who cross him to death with a faucet pipe, giggling all the while as they scream. He does plenty of evil, Alfred."

Faucet pipe. Alfred had seen that pipe, had touched it and picked it up. He had thought it was _rusty_! His stomach lurched. "Oh god..."

"I'm sorry." He looked like he genuinely regretted his words. "If he really cares for you, maybe he will give in to our demands."

Alfred shook his head. "He's a horrible lying bastard. Our entire relationship was filled with deceit. He has done what I imagine are monstrous crimes. I don't know that I can ever forgive him. But I still love him, and if one of us has to die, I don't want it to be him..."

His captor stared at Alfred in surprise, jaw hanging open.

Alfred just shrugged, wolfing down the lasagna. He set the empty plate aside and reached for the water bottle. "So what is your name?"

"Um..."

"I see no reason not to tell me. I'll be dead or whatever before the week's out, and Ivan already knows who you are."

"Oh. I guess you're right. I'm Feliciano. My brother's Lovino."

Alfred gulped down some water. "And the German?"

"Ludwig."

"What's up with him in the Italian mafia, anyway?"

"Oh... Ludwig, he and I..." Feliciano looked away again, face reddening.

"Ah. I see." Alfred added the bottle to the empty plate. "The mafia sure is gay."

Feliciano giggled. "I guess it is! Oh good, you can joke about it now?"

Alfred ignored that. He had no idea what to think about Ivan and the mafia. Some moments he couldn't help but remember their wonderful relationship and how much they loved each other. Others, he mused that if they really wanted to kill Ivan, their best bet was to unleash Alfred on him... "So anyway. You're sure nice and friendly for someone who's going to chop my organs out. Or... what was the other one? Sell me into sex slavery..."

"I wouldn't do any of that personally. And if it makes you feel better, I voted for killing you for organs! Less suffering that way."

"Aren't you a peach."

"Work's work. I'm sure it's the same way for your man."

Alfred snorted. "If you believe that, why do you want to kill him?"

"Never mind."

Alfred shrugged. He stretched his arms out some more, relishing the time before they were tied down once again. If he got out of this alive, he was never going to sit in a chair again. He'd have to pull a treadmill up to the dinner table or something.

"There is something I've been wondering about Braginsky," Feliciano said.

"Well I'm not talking."

"It's not a big mafia secret, just something I heard rumors about and have been curious. Is it true he has a _really_-"

"Oh god!" Alfred yelped. "Don't tell me _you_ guys heard about that, too!"

The Italian nodded, grinning. "I guess I'm something of a car enthusiast, so that interested me. Ludwig, too."

"Car...?" Alfred chuckled. "Ohh. Um, well, I actually wouldn't know. He never told me about what cars he owns besides the limo, and I didn't visit him at home much."

"Oh." Feliciano sighed. "Oh well, that's okay. We really got the better end of the deal when it comes to hatred and prejudice influencing our purchases, you know. He's missing out on some nice Italian cars. What are we missing?" Alfred pushed aside the urge to defend Russia as Feliciano moved to tie his arms. Alfred tried to maneuver away. "Sorry, I have to."

"Don't I get a bathroom break?"

Feliciano tilted his head, lips pursed. "I hadn't thought about that. I don't know..."

Alfred grimaced. "I really do appreciate the awesome food and the water, but it's gotta go somewhere, you know."

"Really?" He brightened. "You think my food is awesome?"

"Oh, yeah!"

"Well, I'll see what I can do."

So they came up with an arrangement. Alfred was especially thrilled to be completely untied and allowed to walk. He was led to a small bathroom, which had been entirely cleared except for a few necessities he couldn't harm himself or others with. Ludwig stood guard outside, warning him to be quick. Alfred brought up the idea of bathing. Ludwig agreed to that, adding that they didn't trust prisoners not to drown themselves, and so he would be standing guard inside the room in that case. Alfred opted to just go dirty.

Before he returned to his captors, Alfred paused to look at himself in the mirror. He grimaced at the sight of his poor hairdo, and ran a hand over the scruffy hair on his cheeks. "A razor is probably out of the question, huh?"

"Probably," Ludwig said from the other side of the door. "Hurry up."

Alfred sighed, turning away from his reflection. He spent a couple more minutes dawdling, stretching his legs, before resigning himself to his fate and returning to his dreadful captivity.


	22. Chapter 22

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

"Damn, man. You don't look so hot." Gilbert folded his arms, leaning back against the wall. "Work stress?"

Ivan grunted. "Something like that."

"Heh. You think _you're_ stressed? I'm running _two_ businesses. I don't see you running two mafias." He laughed nervously at the death glare he received. "Do I want to know to what I owe this pleasure?"

"You owe me a favor."

Gilbert sighed. "I thought it might be something like that..."

"We did small favors for each other. And I did a big favor for you. Now I need a big favor from you."

"Should I be sitting for this?" Without waiting for an answer, Gilbert flopped onto a chair, loosening his tie before settling back and propping his feet onto the desk. "Lay it on me."

"Alfred has been kidnapped," Ivan said tonelessly.

Gilbert promptly sat up straight, crimson eyes widening. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Damn..." The albino ran his hands through his pale hair. "I liked him."

Ivan's eyes narrowed. "Do not speak of him as if he were dead."

"Sorry. So what am I doing about it?"

"What do you think? It was the Italians. And your brother."

Gilbert groaned. "You want me to cross Ludwig?"

"Yes."

"And I don't have a choice, huh?"

"You don't want his death on your conscience, do you? Or your brains all over the wall..."

"No," Gilbert said with a shudder. "No I don't."

"Good. Find out where they're keeping him."

"Yeah, yeah. But don't expect an instant miracle, he doesn't exactly trust me."

Ivan nodded slightly. "I know that. But more than he trusts me, I'm sure."

Gilbert smirked. "He'd trust the entire population of the police station before you."

"So get to it. Now. We have less than a week."

"Until they kill him?"

"Yes." Ivan didn't feel the need to tell him he had no intention of letting that happen, and would give in to their demands first.

"Shit, man..." Gilbert grimaced. "He's a good kid. I'm on it."

* * *

Lovino grumbled to himself as he stomped down the stairs, damn near tripping in the damn dark, and felt around for a few moments before locating the cord to turn the light on. "The things I do for my idiot brother! Like I give a fuck if you eat or not. But I'll be damned if I'm gonna cook for you." He tossed the paper bag he was carrying onto the prisoner's lap. "I suppose you need your hands. If you hit me, you'll regret it." It was creeping Lovino out, the way the kid was just staring at him, eyes dull. He'd always been so loud and obnoxious before. "Huh." He backed away once Alfred was partway freed. "Starting to lose it, huh?"

The kid's eyes drifted down toward the bag. "You brought me... fast food?"

"Hey, shut up. Like I said, I ain't cooking for your ass, I'm just doing a favor for my brother. If you don't like it, you can... er..." He had never seen anyone devour a hamburger so fast. "Uh, okay then."

"Thank you."

Lovino shrugged, feeling a bit flustered by that. "Sure." He wandered around the room as the boy ate.

"How old are you?" Alfred said abruptly, mouth full of fries.

What a bizarre thing for a prisoner to say. "What do you care?"

"Just wondering. You seem young for... all this."

Lovino snorted. "Older than you. Braginsky's sure robbing the cradle, the perv. What are you, sixteen, seventeen?"

"Twenty." Alfred smiled. "Just recently turned twenty."

"Oh. Well, hope you had a good birthday." Since there wouldn't be more.

"It could have gone better." Alfred turned his creepy dull eyes on Lovino. "I got kidnapped."

Lovino looked away, shrugging. "Well don't tell Feliciano, or he'll want to throw you a party, or something stupid like that."

"You are an oddly nice pair of mafia bosses."

Lovino sputtered. He hadn't thought of himself as particularly _nice_. At least, not a nice mafia boss. "Well, it's not like we killed our way to the top. We inherited the position from our grandfather." He wasn't even sure why he was bothering to explain.

"Ah."

"Unlike Braginsky."

"Don't talk about him."

Lovino just shrugged. If the kid preferred the ignorance is bliss route, whatever. "You used to be so annoying. Being stuffed into a basement seems to have been good for you." The prisoner just looked at him. "You're quiet enough I'm starting to worry we got the wrong one. Ludwig would sure be pissed..." Alfred's eyes widened in alarm, and Lovino snorted. "What, you think we didn't know about him?"

"I..."

"Just because I didn't know your stupid age doesn't mean we didn't research the important stuff. And finding out if one's target has an identical twin is rather important." He rolled his eyes. "Ludwig must have reminded us about five thousand times to make sure we got the right one."

Alfred was silent for a moment. "And... if you hadn't?"

"I think you can guess."

And the kid said nothing after that, just stared at the floor. Bored with him, Lovino tied him back up. "Feli will probably check in on you or whatever when he gets back, I guess." No response, so Lovino turned the light out and left.

"How is he?" Ludwig asked, glancing up from his book. As if the beer-sucking bastard cared.

Lovino shrugged. "Losing it."

"Hm."

"Probably a good thing. I think Feli's getting too attached. He'll feel better about killing the kid if it's more like putting him out of his misery."

"He gets attached to everything."

Lovino rolled his eyes. "You don't have to tell _me.._."


	23. Chapter 23

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

Matthew set the dessert plates down with his most charming smile. The woman at the table smiled back, then suddenly winced—as if someone, possibly her male dining companion, had discretely kicked her. Matthew turned away with a sigh, glancing at the clock on the wall. Three more hours.

"Oh, waiter~"

Matthew groaned at the familiar voice. He moved over to the table with the single occupant, frowning. "What do you want?"

Ivan smiled. "Water, to start with."

"Seriously." He brightened. "Do you come bearing good news? Did things with your, er, contact work out?" Matthew took the chair across from Ivan.

"Are you able to chat during work hours?"

Matthew snorted, glancing around at the people pretending not to notice them. "I'm your friend and you're you. We could screw on the table and the owners wouldn't care."

"Interesting."

"You're acting much too happy for things to have not worked out. Tell me about it."

Ivan shrugged, his small smile fading as he watched Matthew. "He's the brother of someone in the mafia. I'm not entirely sure why he turned to _us_ when he needed a favor instead of _them_, but he owed us one in return and I called it in and told him to find where Alfred is being kept."

Matthew licked his lips. "Do you think he can do it?"

"We'll see."

That wasn't the most hopeful answer in the world, but at least he knew somebody was looking. If he could just locate Alfred, Ivan could rescue him, and nobody would have to die...

"I really just came here to see you," Ivan admitted.

Matthew gave him a puzzled look. "Why?"

"I have no idea. Shouldn't seeing your face be painful? It should not be comforting, but it is..."

"Oh." Matthew stared at the tablecloth, starting to feel awkward. "I don't know. Maybe because you know he's alive? It might be different... otherwise..." He bit his lip.

"Maybe so."

"What are they like?" he found himself wondering.

"Who?"

"Them..." Matthew lowered his voice further. "The, uh, other mafia."

"Oh." Ivan's eyes hardened. "They're... why do you want to know?"

"No reason..."

He studied Matthew for another long moment. "I do not think they are abusing him, if that is what you mean."

Matthew grimaced. "That's... I wasn't... You don't think so?"

Ivan shook his head. "I doubt they are treating him _well_, but I do not think they would be unnecessarily cruel."

"Alfred's probably driving them crazy and making them seriously regret this whole thing," Matthew said with a wan smile.

"Hmm." Ivan returned the smile. "That is entirely possible."

"He's probably..." Matthew rubbed his temples as a familiar headache started to form behind his eyes. "Dammit, I'm tired of crying."

Ivan said nothing, eyes distant as he stared at the tablecloth, rolling a salt shaker around between his hands.

"I just..." Matthew drew in a shuddering breath. "I just want things back the way they were."

"So do I," Ivan murmured. "He will be okay. I'll see to it..." Pain flickered in his eyes, and despite the flurry of emotions—which included anger and even sometimes hatred (though that had been softening lately)—Matthew was feeling toward Ivan, he couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Things pretty much couldn't be okay for Ivan. In the worst case scenario, either Alfred or Ivan would be dead. In the best case scenario, everyone would be okay, but their relationship may very well be over, or at least irreparably different. And Matthew honestly couldn't say he was especially unhappy about that. How could he support them being a couple anymore? What was to stop this from happening again...?

"So, uh... so can I get you something to drink?"

Ivan shook his head. "There's only one bartender for me."

"Oh." Matthew managed another sad smile. "Well it doesn't take a bartender to pour booze into a cup."

"That's true. I'll take my usual, then."

"Okay." Matthew stood. He supposed he probably should get back to work. "Is seeing me really a comfort?" He didn't see how it could be. Ivan had seemed downright normal at first, only to progress to moody and depressed during their short conversation.

"I won't bother you too often, if that is what you mean. Mainly when I have news for you."

"Oh, all right." That hadn't really answered his question, but he wasn't going to press.

With a sigh, Matthew headed off to fetch a drink for Ivan. He couldn't help but notice the freaked out looks his coworkers were giving him as he passed. This was going to be fun...

* * *

"I can't believe he really agreed to this," Raivis groaned.

Toris nodded, reading over the written instructions one more time. "At least... at least they didn't say it _has_ to be Russia. Just... another city."

"Does it matter?" Yuri folded his arms, scowling. "We still have to _move_. My wife is going to kill me!"

"We all have family and friends here," Toris said. "Nobody's happy..."

"And for what?" Aleksei said. "Someone I don't know nor care about."

Toris sighed. "Well, he's important to the boss. So... that's what's important, I suppose."

There were several muttered complaints from the men who did not agree.

"It's not a guarantee," Eduard said, trying to soothe everyone's frayed nerves. "That's only if the rescue doesn't work."

"Yeah..." Raivis shivered. "Boss gets to die, and we get to scatter across the globe."

"Have more faith in him," Toris said.

"It's got nothing to do with him, it's the idiot the whole rescue mission is relying on!"

Toris grimaced as the gathered men started yelling and arguing with each other. He supposed they just had to hope the rescue was successful. Or that the Italian mafia would be satisfied with just killing Ivan, lest there be a riot.

He hoped Alfred appreciated all this...

* * *

Gilbert slammed his empty mug onto the bar with a satisfied sigh. "Good stuff."

"Hm. Yeah, pretty good." Ludwig took a long drink of his own beer.

Plan A was not going well. Not that Gilbert had had much hope for 'go out drinking with Ludwig and try to talk him into spilling info' in the first place. The overworking fellow had about a thousand places he went to a day, so a casual "So where ya headed?" wouldn't really work too well. He didn't want to press too much and raise suspicion, or anything else he tried in the upcoming days would most likely fail. And so they had spent the afternoon drinking and not talking about much in particular.

"Work going well?" Ludwig asked.

Gilbert blinked. "Me? Oh, yes, work is fine. Tiring."

"Are you sure you don't need any help?"

"I'm sure." Gilbert elbowed him. "No offense, bro, I just don't... er... want that sort of help..." Not from them, anyway. And he hadn't exactly been thrilled about turning to Braginsky's crew for help, either. Of course, Braginsky's crew hadn't kidnapped an innocent kid (that Gilbert was aware of, anyway).

"Very well." Ludwig finished his own beer and stood.

"Where to?" It was worth a shot.

"Work stuff."

"Right, right." Well that had been productive. "Later, bro."

"Yeah. See you around."

* * *

The next day, Gilbert tried following him. He rented a different car, 'disguised' himself with baseball cap and sunglasses, and hung around near one of Ludwig's haunts until a familiar BMW drove by. He waited a bit, then casually drove after him.

Gilbert stayed what he hoped was a safe distance away. He couldn't decipher their intended destination as they drove along, so maybe that was a good sign! They were going somewhere new.

"Heh! I don't even need Braginsky!" He grinned to himself. "I'll follow him to their new hideout, wait for him to leave again, then wander on in and grab the boy. Just think of all the favors my new best friend'll owe me if I waltz in with Alfred in tow! He'll owe me favors forever. Oh man, what should I ask for first..."

He grumbled to himself when Ludwig made it through an amber light but he didn't. He glanced around, didn't see any cops or too much traffic, and cheerfully ignored the red light, continuing his pursuit. Hopefully Ludwig hadn't made any sudden turns.

Gilbert breathed a sigh of relief when he caught sight of the car again. He hadn't lost him! He was still going to be the awesome hero of the story.

When the entire excursion turned out to be a trip to the pet store to pick up some dog food, Gilbert smacked his head into the steering wheel, just missing the horn.

* * *

The day after that (they were seriously running out of time. Like, tomorrow was it), Gilbert ran into one of them entirely by accident. He was shopping for some liquid fuel in his favorite European store, and spied a familiar auburn-haired young man with a hand cart full of different types of pasta.

"Hey there, Feli!" Gilbert waved.

"Oh, hi!" Feliciano waved back. "Shopping for beer?"

"You know it! They have the best selection here. Shopping for pasta?"

Feliciano beamed. "I've been cooking a different type every day. I don't think he's had manicotti yet... and maybe I'll even let him try some cannoli!"

"Who's 'he'?" Gilbert asked. Could he really mean...? Well, at least the kid was being fed.

"Oh! A new friend." Feliciano picked up a pack of noodles, comparing it to a similar pack already in his basket.

Gilbert studied him a moment. Time was running out, and he didn't really feel like dancing around the subject. He had been unable to think of a way to steer Ludwig in the right direction the other day, and hadn't had any epiphanies since. And anyway, they didn't know about his dealings with the other side.

"I'm not entirely ignorant to your activities," he said casually, winking.

"Ve?" Feliciano looked up, adding the second package of noodles to his basket beside the first.

"I've actually met him before. Small world, huh?"

"Who?"

"Alfred. I rather like him."

Feliciano noticeably flinched. "Oh..."

"Good kid. Very friendly and enthusiastic."

"Yeah..."

"Close to his brother, supports him while he's going to school."

"I know..."

"Planning on serving his country in the near future."

"I know!" Feliciano scowled at Gilbert. "I know he's a good person. But this is business."

"Where are you keeping him?"

"I can't tell you..." He averted his gaze, pretending to study jars of sauce.

"I could help him."

"Your help is not necessary. I was one of the ones who grabbed him in the first place."

"But you don't want to kill him," Gilbert said, stepping closer. Sure enough, there was another guilty flinch.

"We're still waiting to hear from our target," Feliciano said, voice lowered. "It's him we want to kill."

"And if he turns himself in, great." Gilbert plucked a jar of sauce from the shelf, peering at it. "Hey, this one looks good."

"I don't use jarred sauce."

"Right. Anyway. If Braginsky turns himself in, then great, kill him. If he doesn't... I can pop in and 'rescue' Alfred at the last minute."

Feliciano bit his lip.

"Not everybody in love is willing to die for their lover. I'm not in love, but if I were, I think I like myself too much to do that! Who's to say our dear Vanya could?"

"Don't call him that! And... I don't know..."

"Nobody has to know. This will just be between you and me. Ludwig and your brother will never need to find out who rescued the kid."

"I... that's..."

Gilbert could have broken into song. Feliciano was definitely considering it!

"Do you... do you swear that you will only attempt to rescue Alfred at the last minute, only if it's absolutely necessary?"

Gilbert nodded, making a cross sign over his heart. "I swear, Feliciano. I won't rescue Alfred until it is absolutely necessary because Braginsky did not come through."

"All right..." Feliciano cast a nervous glance around the store. "I'll tell you..."

Gilbert struggled to keep his face neutral. Who was awesome? That's right.


	24. Chapter 24

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

Feliciano carefully helped Alfred down the stairs after the last bathroom break. The poor thing was weakened after a week spent mostly unmoving, but for just one short trip a day, Feliciano didn't mind helping. "Here we are."

Alfred's eyes fell on his chair and he miserably shook his head.

"I'm sorry." Feliciano gently pushed Alfred back until he dropped onto the chair, and tied him. "Not much longer, though."

"No?" Alfred asked, voice soft.

"Nope. Tomorrow's the deadline."

A long pause. "And you... you haven't heard anything?"

Feliciano patted his shoulder. He knew Alfred didn't want Ivan to die for him, but it still must hurt. "I'm afraid not."

Alfred just nodded, deadened eyes going unfocused.

"Hey..." Feliciano leaned in close. "Maybe there will be a miracle." But Alfred merely looked at him. Feliciano wished he could say more, but that was the best hint he could give that salvation may very well be at hand. He really was hoping that Gilbert followed through with his promise. In fact, Feliciano was even helping him out by vacating the premises. "We won't be around much tomorrow. Things to do. I mean, not that you'd notice one way or another, but..."

On impulse, Feliciano kissed Alfred on the forehead before straightening up. "Well, good night." He didn't receive a response, and he sighed as he turned to leave.

He hoped Alfred did make it out alive, and that he found someone else to love him. Somebody who had no enemies. Somebody who would have to take all of two seconds to decide to give his life for him.

* * *

The door opened, and Ivan drew back with a frown. "Francis... why are you answering the door?"

"Oh, it's you." The Frenchman shrugged. "Matthew is indisposed. Can I take a message?"

Ivan shook his head. "I want to see him."

"Uh, look..." Francis was scowling. "Matt isn't your own personal replacement Alfred..."

Ivan wasn't sure what was more annoying. What Francis was saying to him, along with the way he was saying it, or the fact that Matthew had told him about that. And exaggerated.

Francis winced, scowl falling in the face of Ivan's annoyance. "Look, he's just upset now, okay? Today's the deadline..."

"That's why I'm here," Ivan said, gritting his teeth. "I know where Alfred is and I'm going to go get him, so tell that to Matthew if he doesn't want to see me because I'd really like to get going."

"You don't need my permission." Matthew appeared behind Francis, glasses absent from his red eyes. "You should be going after him already! Bring him home!"

Ivan pursed his lips. "Be ready to come get him if you need to. And... I guess I wanted to say goodbye, and I'm sorry I caused all of this... in case I don't come back."

"Oh." Matthew's face softened. "All right."

"Good luck," Francis added.

Ivan nodded. "You will get him back today," he promised before turning to leave.

"Thank you..."

* * *

Matthew dropped onto the couch, clutching his childhood stuffed bear close and not sure whether to laugh or cry. "He's going to get him."

Francis grinned. "Alfred will be home soon."

"This has been a nightmare. Has it really only been a week?" He thought of the last time he had seen Alfred; finding his scattered work clothes for him as usual, kicking back with some evening snacks and sports while Alfred got ready. Waving goodbye as Alfred hurried out the door, slightly late. It felt like a lifetime ago.

"Everyone should come back okay," Francis said, settling onto the couch beside him. "Ivan has the advantage, I think." He rubbed his stubbled chin. "Though would it really be better if Ivan lives? At least if he is dead, there will be no relationship angst."

Matthew grimaced. "I don't want him to die, but that is a good point. Maybe Ivan feels that way, too..."

"But he will probably be fine. So this will be interesting."

"He's a mafia boss, Francis. Alfred won't stay with him..." Matthew sighed. "And if he did... this would just keep happening. He'll always be a target."

"They'll think of something."

Matthew gave him a sidelong glance. "Optimism? You were just saying five seconds ago that Ivan would be better off dead."

"I've gotten over that. Love conquers all, and all that."

"Do you think so?"

"I know so!" Francis draped an arm around Matthew's shoulders. "I know all about _l'__amour_. It is the most powerful force in the world. If Alfred and Ivan are meant to be together, they will be together. 99.99% of the world was treating Alfred like a king because of his boyfriend, Ivan just needs to put a bit of fear into the .01% that would hurt him."

Matthew found himself smiling. "Maybe so..."

"So let's just concentrate on one thing at a time."

"Bringing him home," Matthew murmured. "I know." He felt a sudden urge to clean up in anticipation, before remembering that such a gesture would be lost on Alfred. But he was feeling nervous and antsy, and it was either that or bake or screw, so Matthew stood and started cleaning up as Francis watched him with puzzlement.

* * *

Sure enough, the small house remained empty and quiet. Ivan did not, of course, relinquish his grip on the gun. He gave the house a quick but careful once-over, peeking in bedrooms and bathrooms, finding nothing. Feliciano had told Gilbert the basement, and had even been helpful enough to provide directions to the door, but he wanted to make extra sure nobody was lurking around.

Not that it would matter. He'd just kill them and move on. In fact, he'd kind of prefer that.

Good enough, nobody was home. Ivan firmly set his sights on the basement door and headed that way, trying not to run, trying to quiet his racing heart. He flung the door open, frowning at the dark that greeted him. Had they taken Alfred with them? Or was he being left down there in the dark...? His jaw clenched at the thought. Where the hell was the light switch? Ivan groped around, finding nothing, carefully making his way down the stairs and into the inky darkness.

"Oh. You're back..." a familiar, sweet, beloved, but much too quiet voice croaked. Ivan froze, heart clenching. _Alfred. My Alfred._ His own voice locked in his throat. "So... you're finally coming to kill me." And the quiet acceptance and almost _hopeful_ tone to his voice tore Ivan's heart to pieces.


	25. Chapter 25

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

Pain radiated down Alfred's neck as he tilted his head, but by now that was commonplace. Every day had been nothing but aches and pains from sitting in the same position, even while asleep, and nothing to entertain him but the sound of his own breathing. He was ready for this to end, one way or another.

The other man didn't seem to want to answer him. Alfred had no way of knowing which one it was. His footsteps returned, a little heavier than Feliciano's, and Alfred guessed Ludwig. Sure it would be Ludwig who would be the one to kill him. His head drooped. He was so tired. He didn't even wince when the light clicked on, staring at the floor as if he expected to find something interesting. He tried to muster up a decent last thought to have.

"Alfred..."

It was barely a whisper. Alfred didn't look up, thoughts of all the people he wished he could see again filtering into his mind.

"Oh god, Alfred... are you okay? Say something. Look at me."

He knew that voice...

Fingers grasped Alfred's chin and tilted his face up, and he found himself looking into wide violet eyes.

Alfred jerked back in surprise, mouth falling open. It couldn't be... it had to be an illusion. He was losing his mind. "I... Ivan...?"

The hallucination smiled at him. "Yes. It's me." He reached out and caressed Alfred's cheek, and Alfred leaned into the hand. It was cool, and trembling slightly. He started to wonder if maybe this was real...

Ivan got to work on the ropes binding Alfred, jerking them out of their knots and tossing them aside. When he finished with the last one, he gripped Alfred's hands and pulled him upright, straight into his arms. Alfred lay bonelessly against him, still dumbstruck. "You came..."

"Of course." Ivan's arms tightened around him. "Did you not think I would? I'd have died for you in an instant, Alfred, but if there was a chance to rescue you, I wanted to try."

"You... you're..." Alfred finally moved, pulling out of Ivan's embrace, staring at him.

Ivan smiled again. "You're beautiful. My Alfred. I've missed you so much. You're a mess, but you're beautiful."

Alfred couldn't muster up a smile in return. "You..."

"Yes?"

He curled his hands into fists, then drew one back and punched Ivan in the jaw. It couldn't have been a very strong punch, but Ivan stumbled back a few steps anyway in surprise. "You're a _fucking lying bastard!_"

Ivan drooped, smile faded. "Al..."

"Don't 'Al' me!" Alfred stepped forward, stumbling into Ivan and pounding a fist weakly against his chest, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Goddamned deceitful son of a _bitch_!"

Ivan caught his hands. "You can hit and curse me as much as you want later. I would really like to get you out of here now."

Alfred nodded, unable to stop his tears. He had gone from feeling dead, to feeling an overwhelming slam of relief, love, and fury all at once.

"Can you walk?"

"I don't know..." Alfred said with a shake of his head. "They would—ah!" The world went topsy-turvy, and Alfred soon found himself slung over Ivan's shoulder.

"Now's not the time for experimentation." Ivan's voice was tight as he started to carefully climb the stairs. "I'm parked a mile or so away. Not very convenient, but I wanted to be careful..."

"You should turn out the light," Alfred said as they reached the top of the stairs. He wasn't sure why it seemed important. Maybe it would buy them an extra minute or two if his captors had to go down and check. Ivan hesitated, and Alfred expected to be set down. Instead, Ivan swiveled around. The sound of a gunshot was loud in Alfred's ears, and the basement went dark. "Oh..." He shuddered at Ivan so casually firing a weapon. His sweet Ivan... he really was...

They were moving again. The blood was rushing to Alfred's head, but on top of the other aches in his body, he barely noticed the addition. He clung to Ivan as they moved through the house, then were out the door.

Alfred almost gasped as he realized he was outside for the first time in over a week, He squinted in the bright summer sunlight, taking a deep breath of deliciously fresh air. It wasn't a pretty part of the city, but it was a part of the city. He wasn't allowed much time to take it in, though; Ivan was jogging as quickly as he could without jarring Alfred too much. Alfred thought about how annoying this mode of travel was—it was something to concentrate on besides thinking more deeply about Ivan.

Which, of course, led his brain to thinking about Ivan. Alfred had missed him so much, loved him so much, was so happy to see him... it was easy to forget about being mad at him. Much too easy... Ivan's strong arms were around him, carrying him to safety (not that he liked being the damsel in distress), and nobody had to die, and now they could...

What? Now what? That was the question...

"We're... we're stopping?" Alfred looked around in puzzlement. They were in an alley, no car in sight. Surely they hadn't already gone the mile or so Ivan had mentioned.

"Yes," Ivan said, setting Alfred down with a grunt. "You're heavy."

"Oh."

"Just a short break." Ivan turned to look at Alfred, lips pursed, expression unreadable. Then he enveloped Alfred in a hug, burying his face in his hair.

Alfred melted into the embrace before he realized what he was doing, clinging desperately to Ivan, inhaling his scent.

"I'm sorry," Ivan murmured. "I'm so sorry, Alfred. I love you. You believe me, don't you? That was never a lie."

"I know..." Alfred wanted to just pull away, but his body wouldn't cooperate. "I didn't think it was. But-"

"Please listen before you hit me again."

"Oh, you have an excuse for being a lying criminal?" he said before he could stop himself.

Ivan winced. "Al... I admit that I was attracted to you from the start, but mostly it was friendship in the beginning. You were somebody I could talk to who treated me a like a normal person, because you didn't know what I was. And I loved talking to you because you were so... wonderful, and full of life, and..." He sighed, finally releasing Alfred. Alfred had half-expected to see tears, but wasn't surprised that there weren't any. Ivan Braginsky didn't cry. "And I fell in love, and you fell for me, and I didn't know how to tell you without losing you. So I didn't. I was terrified of you finding out and leaving. I didn't know what else to do."

"So you just-"

"Lied, yes. I won't lie anymore."

"God..." Alfred ran his hands down his face. "And everyone else knows about us! Next time it might not be somebody who wants something from you, they might just kill me to hurt you! They might kill Matthew by mistake!"

"Next time?" Ivan blinked at him.

"Oh." Alfred looked away. "Well, you know what I mean. Hypothetically, if I was still with you..."

"I want to be with you, Alfred," Ivan said softly. "Will you ever be able to forgive me?"

"I don't know..."

"I want to marry you."

Alfred's shoulders sagged. "You do?"

Ivan nodded. "I was going to ask on your birthday. I got a ring, your brother's holding on to it."

He swallowed, chest tight. "I'm sure I would have said yes..."

Ivan's eyes grew sad. "Probably."

"I need to think."

"Think?" Ivan reached over to tilt Alfred's chin up. "That's not an outright 'no'."

Alfred jerked away. "What do you think, that I suddenly hate you? I can't fall out of love that easily! This whole time, even when I was pissed at you and ready to kill you myself, I didn't want you to die for my sake. I was hoping you wouldn't rescue me. By turning yourself in, I mean, I'm glad you did it this way."

Ivan's face softened further. It was so easy to pretend he was still nothing but a sweet guy who happened to be rich because he owned a successful business. He lay a hand on Alfred's shoulder, and Alfred smacked it away.

"I'm still mad! I..." Alfred balled his hands into fists again. "Dammit. I don't know _what_ to think anymore, Vanya..."

Ivan's eyes widened, and Alfred realized his slip of the tongue. He'd even stopped thinking of Ivan by his nickname since finding out the truth; he was surprised by how easily it came back.

Ivan stepped closer again, and before Alfred could think to move away, they were kissing. He automatically parted his lips, letting their tongues dance together. He tangled a hand in Ivan's hair, moaning softly into his mouth. Oh god, he wanted more. He pressed closer, kissing harder, exploring every inch of Ivan's mouth. And Ivan groaned in pleasure, apparently not caring that Alfred hadn't seen a toothbrush in some time.

And then Ivan was gently pushing him away, panting slightly. "Al... we should save the rest for later. We need to get going." He moved to pick Alfred up, but he took a quick step back.

"I think I can walk on my own," Alfred said. "I'd rather walk."

Ivan nodded. "I'm close by if you stumble."

Alfred took a few hesitant steps in the direction of the street. Yeah, he could do that. He wondered how worse off he would be if he hadn't been let out once a day... He set off, hoping he could move fast enough, and–

Alfred jerked to a stop, eyes widening. "You've got to be kidding me..." He took a step back, heart plummeting.

Ludwig shrugged slightly, gun pointed at Alfred. Lovino joined him, weapon also raised. Feliciano wasn't armed, and he avoided Alfred's eyes, looking both upset and angry.

"Damn you," Ivan hissed. Alfred glanced back at him, then backed away in alarm. He had never seen such a cold expression of icy rage before. For how many people had that been the last thing they ever saw? The two armed men quickly shifted their aim, guns pointing at Ivan.

"You're a fool, Braginsky," Ludwig said. "You should have just let my brother rescue him, like he and Feliciano planned."

Puzzled, Alfred looked to Ivan again, who was seething. Feliciano... had been planning his escape all along? Alfred looked back at the Italian, who was still avoiding his eyes.

"We would have just let them go, and written you off as a coward," Ludwig said. "Everyone could have lived. Or you could have done what we said, one way or the other, and only one of you would have had to die."

"Too bad," Lovino said, looking like he really did regret it. "You chose the one option that would have the worst case scenario. You both have to die."

"Don't kill Alfred," Ivan said. He added, as if it were choking him to do so, "Please."

Ludwig shook his head. "Sorry. You had your terms." And he moved the gun barrel again, aiming back at Alfred.

Alfred took a deep breath of warm summer air and exhaled slowly. He hated to just give up, but what could he do in the face of a gun, weakened as he was? He had already resigned himself to his fate, even if there had been a brief moment of hope breaking it up. He glanced back at Ivan, who looked just as terrified as he did furious. "I love you." But that didn't seem like quite enough, and he thought of something better. "I forgive you."

The rage faded a little from Ivan's eyes. He smiled wanly. "You do?"

Alfred nodded, chest tight. When it came right down to it, he did love Ivan so much. And he _could_ understand, he supposed, the reason behind the lies and deceit.

"I'm glad. I love you, too."

"It's been fun, Alfred," Ludwig said.

Alfred closed his eyes. He hoped his death would fuel a rage in Ivan that would keep him alive. He hoped, if that happened, he wouldn't kill the trio too horribly. Especially Feliciano, who was nice in spite of everything and Alfred still couldn't bring himself to hate. And whatever else happened, Alfred hoped Mattie would be okay...

Ludwig fired.

Alfred tumbled to the ground with a cry, wincing at the sting of pebbles digging into his hands as he landed. He lay there a moment, wondering at the mystery of the worst pain he was experiencing being his stinging palms. Had he not been shot? He finally looked up in confusion.

Ludwig and Lovino were staring with wide eyes, guns still raised. Feliciano looked utterly shocked, hands pressed to his cheeks. As the ghostly memory of hands shoving him aside resurfaced, Alfred slowly turned.

Ivan was sprawled beside him, unmoving. Blood seeped out from under him, staining the already dirty ground a deep crimson. Alfred's body went cold as he stared in growing horror at the still form. "Ivan...?" He scrambled closer with a choked cry. "Ivan! _Ivan!_" He buried his face in the shirt covering Ivan's back, body shaking as he sobbed. "No...!"

Aware of eyes still on him, Alfred lifted his own eyes to meet the watching trio. "Wh-what are you waiting for?" He glared at them, baring his teeth, furious expression losing a bit of its impact in light of the tears still streaming from his eyes, clinging to his glasses.

Ludwig stared at him a moment longer, then let his gun drop. Lovino followed suit, and the two of them turned and walked away. Feliciano lingered, gazing sadly at Alfred, before hurrying after them.

Alfred sagged, letting out a shuddering breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Ivan?" He tilted his glasses up to wipe away his tears. He would have to hold off on mourning until he knew Ivan was really gone. With a grunt, Alfred rolled the heavy (his mind shied away from the word 'body') form over, drawing back at the sight of the bleeding wound. "Oh god. You idiot!" But... it was still bleeding. That was a good sign, wasn't it? The dead didn't bleed. Alfred tore off his own shirt and wadded it against the bullet hole. He felt for a pulse, just to make sure, eyes welling with tears again as he felt the heartbeat beneath his fingers. "Hang on, Vanya. Okay? I'm calling an ambulance." He dug around Ivan's pockets for a phone, idly wondering what to do with the assorted weaponry he found before help arrived. Alfred took a deep breath, trying to calm down. "There it is. Okay, love, I'm calling now. Just hang on..."


	26. Chapter 26

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

Gilbert sighed pleasantly, relaxing in his favorite bar. It had been a good day. His worst problem was one of his dancers announcing her pregnancy, but in the grand scheme of things that wasn't so bad—the kid wasn't his, and he could always hire a new dancer in the meantime.

Someone plopped onto the stool beside him, and ordered the same thing he was having.

"Hey..." Gilbert smiled innocently. "Fancy seeing you here. What's up? Yearned for my presence again?"

Ludwig eyed him, mouth set in a serious line. Not that that was unusual. "Gilbert," he greeted coolly.

"That's me."

Ludwig studied him for an uncomfortably long moment, eyes narrowing. "You're damned lucky we were able to kill Braginsky anyway."

"What?" Gilbert blinked rapidly. "Ah. Haha! What? I don't know what you're talking about, bro!"

"Don't play dumb, as good as you are at that game."

"Hey!"

"He wouldn't let you rescue the boy yourself, hm?"

Gilbert looked down at the bar. "No," he mumbled. "As if."

"He should have."

"You really killed him?" Oh well.

"Yes."

"And the boy?" It would be seriously lame if the nice, innocent kid had been killed as well after all of that.

"No. The last I saw of him, he was crying over Braginsky's corpse."

"Oh. Well, at least you have some heart."

Ludwig frowned at him, leaning closer. Gilbert leaned away. "Allow me to reiterate, brother. You are _damned lucky_ their escape plan didn't work."

Gilbert swallowed. "Heh... lucky me..."

* * *

Alfred made a valiant effort at reading one of the cheesy celebrity magazines the hospital's waiting room had to offer, but it was a losing battle. His mind couldn't think of anything but Ivan. Ivan laying on the ground, bleeding and dying. Ivan laying on an operating table, being cut into and god knew what. His eyes burned, his head hurt, his whole body ached, and people kept glancing at him, presumably wondering why the crazy, shirtless, dirty guy was standing in the waiting room.

"_Alfred!_" a voice cried, drawing everyone's attention. "It's... it's really you..."

Alfred dropped the unread magazine, breath catching. "Matthew." He stared across the room at his twin, who had a hand clapped to his mouth and wide eyes. "Matt!" Matthew ran closer, and Alfred met him halfway; they damn near smacked into each other as they embraced. Hot tears dripped onto Alfred's bare skin.

"Oh god, Al, I missed you so much. Are you all right?"

Alfred nodded, clinging to his brother. "I'm fine."

"You jerk...! You-you should call me yourself when you're fine!" Matthew's grip tightened. "Fuck, for a second I'd thought..."

"I'm sorry," Alfred said with a wince. He had wanted to call Matthew himself, he really had. He had stared at Ivan's phone for ages, wondering what to say (at one point he had decided on a super-casual "Hey, Matt.") In the end, he'd asked a nurse to do it for him. "I didn't want to say hi over the phone. I wanted it to be in person."

"I've been so worried about you."

Alfred squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to think about what it must have been like for Matthew. "I know..."

"And... Ivan...?"

"Shot." Alfred swallowed thickly. "He was shot. They—the doctors—they seem optimistic, anyway."

"Shit." Matthew buried his face in the crook of Alfred's neck. "I take it his rescue was unsuccessful."

"It was okay at first, we got away." Alfred shuddered. "We stopped to rest, and they caught us. So they were going to kill us both, and they were going to shoot me first. They _did_, really, but Ivan pushed me away and was hit instead..."

"Oh!" Matthew gasped. "He really... did that?"

Alfred nodded, struggling not to cry again. "It makes it hard to hate him, despite everything..."

"He should have told you from the start," Matthew said softly. "Then all of this could have been avoided."

"If he had told me from the start, I wouldn't have dated him," Alfred mumbled. "So there's one point in his favor for lying, I guess."

"Dammit, you could've died! I was so..." Matthew choked back another sob. "Let's go home. Please. Francis is waiting in his car."

Alfred shook his head. "I-"

"You haven't been here that long, he won't be ready for visitors for a while. You need to clean up and rest, and we can talk freely."

"All right..."

Matthew led Alfred out of the hospital, both of them ignoring the curious looks they received. Francis waited for them in the parking lot and he, too, was quick to hug Alfred and go on about how worried he had been. The brothers both slid into the back seat to cling to each other on the drive home, and Francis babbled on about what he had been through the last week, which at one point devolved into a rant about the British for some bizarre reason. Alfred wasn't really paying attention.

Fortunately, Francis was smart enough to tell them goodnight and drive off after letting them out in front of their apartment. As much as he just wanted to cling to his brother forever, Alfred made a beeline for the bathroom. Hot water had never sounded so good. Sometimes he had almost considered just letting Ludwig watch, he had wanted a bath so bad.

It was more than an hour later when Alfred returned, clean and shaven, clad in a comfy robe. He felt better than he had in ages. Matthew was waiting for him with—bless his heart—a dinner of pancakes. Alfred was glad it wasn't pasta. He probably wouldn't be able to look a noodle in the face for years.

"Tell me what happened," Matthew said quietly as they sat down to eat. "Tell me everything."

Alfred took a deep, shuddering breath, and dove into the story. He did not leave out a single detail, from when the Italians walked into the bar, until he asked a nurse to call Matthew. Matthew didn't say much during the story, watching his brother as he spoke, his face occasionally flickering with sadness or fury. They fell silent when Alfred finished, him swirling the syrup around on his empty plate and Matthew staring off into space.

"So..." Matthew cleared his throat. "You forgive him?"

"Hm?"

"Ivan. Did you really forgive him, or were you just saying that because you thought you were going to die?"

"Oh..." Well now, that was the big question, wasn't it? Did Alfred forgive Ivan for all of his lies? He _did_ understand his reasoning, could see how what started out as withholding information about himself to keep a friend had spiraled out of control as their relationship deepened. Could he really blame Ivan for that? Would he himself have done the same, were their situations reversed? Alfred heaved a sigh, slowly nodding. "Yeah. I think I do. I love him so much, Mattie, and I understand why he did what he did..."

"But... he's still..."

"I know." Alfred made a face. "A criminal. Yeah..."

"I don't even know what sort of things he _does_..."

"I have an idea," Alfred said in a hushed voice. "The Italian mafia does human and organ trafficking, among their many other hobbies. They say the Russian mafia isn't much different. And Ivan beats people to death with a pipe... while laughing... so they say."

Matthew paled. "That's..."

"Horrible. I know. I can't picture him doing anything like that."

"I suppose I can. But I've seen that side of him more often this last week..."

Alfred shuddered. "This last week..."

"I'm sorry. I'll stop talking about it, I don't want-"

"It's okay. It must have been awful for you. I'd have died from worry if you had been kidnapped." He suppressed another shudder when he remembered what Lovino had said would have happened if _that_ had been the case.

Matthew smiled sadly. "It was... Not as awful as it was for you, but pretty awful. I've never been so afraid..."

"Worse than that haunted house we went to that time?"

Matthew's smile grew. "No matter what, you're still you. Cracking jokes..."

"That wasn't a joke, that thing was seriously scary..." Alfred managed a grin. "Hey. Let's go curl up on the couch and watch movies and chat."

"I'd like that. Oh! Before I forget..." Matthew fumbled around in his pockets, tugging out a small box. "There you go."

Alfred popped the box open. Oh... That's right, Ivan said he'd given it to Mattie. His eyes stung again, and he bit his lip. It really was beautiful... He again covered everything up with a joke. "Why Mattie... I'm honored. But I don't think Mom and Dad would approve."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Idiot."

Alfred grinned at him, though it quickly fell. "I told him, if he had asked when he'd planned to, I would have said yes."

"I remember. And of course you would have."

"I told him I'd need time to think."

Matthew nodded, reaching for Alfred's empty plate. "Need more?"

"Nah, I'm full."

"Well take all the time you need. To think, I mean. And whatever you decide, I'll be behind you."

Alfred smiled faintly, gazing at the ring. "Thanks. But I don't need any more time."

* * *

Ivan stared at the bedside phone, wondering if he should try again. Each call had gone straight to voicemail, obviously Alfred wasn't turning his phone on. Did he even have it anymore? That was the only number Ivan had memorized, he couldn't try calling anybody else. Alfred was all right, wasn't he? The nurse had said he was...

Returning to consciousness had been a dreadful time, as he had slowly remembered what happened. Assuming that your lover was killed while you miraculously survived is not the most pleasant way to wake up. He had been determined to go find out for himself, until he was sedated back into bed. Fortunately, one of the nurses recognized Alfred's description from Ivan's ranting, and calmly told him that sounded like the boy who had accompanied Ivan to the hospital. But he still did not relax until she also told him that the boy had waited there for him, until he was taken home by his brother. Only then did Ivan lay back, reassured. If both twins had been seen, there would be no devastating discovery that it had been Matthew who had brought him to the hospital.

So where was Alfred?

He had to be okay. But... that didn't mean he would come back. Would he? He had said he forgave Ivan! But that might have just been the about-to-be-killed experience talking. But Alfred wasn't the type to leave without a word. And the nurse had said he wouldn't leave until Matthew took him home, it did sound like he had planned on waiting...

Ivan groaned. He hated this. He felt so pathetic and helpless.

A tentative knock came at the door. Ivan sighed, reminding himself that Toris hadn't visited yet today, and had promised he would. "Toris? Come in."

"Nah, not him." A bouquet of sunflowers entered the room, carried by a handsome young man with golden hair that rivaled the petals in his hands. "Hey."

Ivan licked his lips. "Hey..."

Alfred set the vase of flowers aside, then rushed to Ivan's side with a low cry. A split second before hugging him, though, he hesitated, looking unsure.

Ivan tugged his arms from the confines of his blanket, nodding to let his lover know that a hug wouldn't kill him. Alfred was only too happy to oblige, hugging Ivan close but gently, tears running down his face.

"Don't cry," Ivan murmured. He could have stayed like that all day, with Alfred in his arms, where he belonged. "It's okay now."

"You're all right?"

"Yes. I'm fine."

"Good. I was so worried."

"So was I... that week was hell. I missed you terribly."

"I missed you, too." Alfred sniffled. He gently traced a finger along Ivan's bandages. "I... I can't believe you really..."

Ivan wiped a tear from Alfred's cheek. "You stepped between me and a gun once. Is it so surprising that I would do the same?"

"No." Alfred laughed, and Ivan's heart soared. "No, I guess it isn't. We're both a couple of idiot heroes, huh?" Ivan's hand lingered on Alfred's cheek, and he nuzzled into it.

"I just couldn't let them," Ivan murmured. "Even knowing they planned to kill us both, and that I was probably just delaying the inevitable... I couldn't stand by and watch you be shot."

"So you made me watch you get shot instead." Alfred laughed again, with less humor than before. "That's probably why they picked me to go first, you know. So you would suffer more and I would suffer less."

"You give them too much credit."

"No, I'm serious..." Alfred sighed. "They kind of seemed to... like me. Especially Feliciano, he was nice. Didn't they say he wanted to help me escape?"

"Pretty much. It was part of how I found you." Ivan briefly explained, and Alfred looked sad.

"Maybe you _should_ have just let Gilbert rescue me."

Ivan shook his head. "I had to rescue you..."

"You're stubborn."

"I know." Ivan's eyes narrowed. "And I promise, I'll find them, Al. Whether they liked you or not, whether you got some bizarre Stockholm Syndrome fondness for them-"

"Hey, that wasn't what it was!"

"-I will find them. They cannot get away with doing that to you."

Alfred drew back, and Ivan instantly regretted his words. All he was doing was reminding Alfred about what he was...

"I... that's a nice thought. But I'd really rather you didn't." Alfred looked away, and Ivan tried desperately to think of something to lighten the mood again. "So... so I did come here to tell you something," Alfred continued. "And I better say it soon before I lose my nerve."

"Yes?"

"I..." Alfred took a deep breath. "Oh god, here goes..."

Ivan blinked. That wasn't the best start in the world.

"I..." he tried again. "Shit. I can't believe I'm doing this when you're in the hospital after taking a bullet for me."

Oh no. Ivan's insides chilled as he stared up at Alfred, whose smile had long since faded.

"But... it would be cruel to string you along, you know? I don't want to wait and make things worse." Alfred placed something in Ivan's hand, closing Ivan's fingers around it. A ring. He didn't need to look to know it wasn't a new ring.

"Al... no..."

"I'm sorry," Alfred whispered. "But I've been thinking a lot, and..."

He had been dreaming of seeing Alfred again for the last week (was it two weeks now? More?) Dreamed of being with him forever for the last almost year. There was no way this could be happening. "Please..."

"I love you so much, more than anything!" Alfred looked at Ivan again, as more tears spilled from his eyes. "But... but dammit, I _can't_ stay with you. Not knowing what you do!"

Ivan said nothing. He was finding it hard to breathe.

"Cheating and stealing and swindling and murdering..."

Ivan stared up at his sobbing lover, feeling tears fall from his own eyes.

"And... and I'll always be in danger, and Mattie too, and... I'm so sorry, Vanya."

Ivan still couldn't say anything.

"And..." Alfred's eyes widened. "Oh god, are you crying?"

Ivan looked away.

"I'm so sorry," Alfred said, voice fallen to a whisper again. "Oh god, I'm sorry, Vanya. I can still call you that, can't I? Do you hate me?"

"Of course not," Ivan said, voice sounding distant to his ears. "Never."

"Good." Alfred drew in a shuddering breath. "This... this is horribly selfish, but... are you still going to help out Mattie?"

"I..." Ivan cleared his throat. "I will keep my promise, of course. I will pay for his schooling, and anything else he needs. Anything at all."

"Thank you," Alfred said. "Thank you so much. I quit my job, so..."

"At the bar?" Ivan blinked, heart lurching. "Al... are you leaving?"

He nodded. "To join the Air Force. I'm leaving in a few weeks."

"Ah... your dream..." Ivan couldn't help but feel glad about that, even as his heart was broken.

"Yeah." Alfred managed a small smile. "So..."

Ivan pulled Alfred back into his arms, holding him close as he felt his world spin away, holding the warmth close. Alfred clung to him, shoulders shaking as he cried. Ivan hated to see him cry, hated that he had been doing it so much lately, because of him... Alfred drew back slightly to kiss Ivan, lips chapped but sweet, and Ivan returned the kiss desperately. He couldn't quite believe it was their last. So when Alfred pulled away, Ivan tugged him back down for one more.

"I should go," Alfred said, drawing back again. "I hate good-"

"Don't say it," Ivan said. "I love you, Al."

Alfred smiled wanly. "I love you too, Vanya." He hesitated, then turned and walked out, door swinging shut behind him.

Ivan stared after him for a while, then curled up and wept as he hadn't done since he was a child.


	27. Chapter 27

_Woo, the final chapter! Many thanks to all who've stuck around this long! And thank you for all the reviews, it's been overwhelming. You guys are awesome!_

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

Matthew wiped his eyes, then replaced his glasses and hugged Alfred again. "God, what am I gonna do without you around?"

"Study in peace and quiet?" Alfred held his brother close, sniffing back tears. He was growing tired of tearful goodbyes. His head seriously hurt.

"Ha."

It would take some getting used to. They had shared a room for eighteen years, and a home for two. The thought of his twin not always being there was painful. But Alfred had known this day would come eventually, even if he hadn't thought it would be so soon.

"Call often, okay?" Matthew said.

Alfred nodded. "Every day! And I'll email and text and everything until you're sick of me. Well, if I can."

"And don't do anything stupid." He reached up to flick Alfred's still-growing cowlick.

"Of course not!"

Matthew gave a soft snort. "Right... I'll send you care packages, too, if you get shipped somewhere."

"Awesome! You'll send pancakes?"

"I don't know how good those would mail..." Matthew grinned. "You're gonna be so cool."

Alfred laughed. "_Gonna_ be?"

Matthew kissed his cheek, then finally pulled away. "Get your ass on the bus before I decide to keep you here."

"I'm going." Alfred sniffled. "Seeya, Mattie."

"Seeya, Al..."

Alfred hefted his bag and walked onto the waiting bus. Once he was seated and comfortable, he glanced out the window, but the people he could see milling about outside were nobody he recognized. He wondered just how many of the other passengers had the same destination, and wondered if they would become friends in the near future. Trying not to think about everything he was leaving behind, Alfred closed his eyes, concentrating on where he was headed, on what the future held. He firmly tried to remind himself that he really was fulfilling his long-time dream, and the future was not bleak at all.

Nope, not bleak. This was his choice, after all. No matter how much he wanted to, he just couldn't...

He couldn't think about that, was what he couldn't do. The future, he was thinking about the future. It was going to be _awesome_. He was going to be a hero, just like his grandfathers, his and Mattie's namesakes. He'd make new friends, and maybe even find...

No, couldn't think about that, either. It would be a while before he could even _consider_ finding somebody else. Just the thought of another man in his bed made him feel kind of nauseated.

But he would make new friends, and he loved finding new friends. He had envied Matthew his experience at school, where he could easily do so. The occasional regular at the bar was not really a friend.

Leaning against the window, Alfred almost felt ready to fall asleep. In his excitement, he had not gotten much sleep the night before.

He felt the seat shift as somebody plopped down beside him. Sleepy and lost in thought, Alfred didn't move to introduce himself just yet. He hoped it was somebody nice for the long ride.

"Hello~"

Alfred froze. Oh no... no no no...

"Sorry I took so long. I was saying goodbye to Matthew."

Alfred still didn't bother opening his eyes. "Why are you here?" he asked softly. "Should you even be moving around?"

"I'm fine."

Alfred took a deep breath. "Walking out of that room was the hardest thing I've ever done. Please don't make things worse."

"I wanted to talk. You left while I was still fairly upset and I didn't have a chance to say anything. Would you please look at me?"

Alfred squeezed his eyes tighter, then relented and turned, feeling a painful twinge at the sight of beloved violet eyes. He swallowed. "The bus isn't going to wait for you."

Ivan shrugged. "I can take a cab home."

"What are you doing here?"

"The same thing you are."

Alfred wished he would stop trying to be mysterious. "Joining the Air Force?"

Ivan shook his head. "You quit your job and are starting a new life. It is the same with me."

"You..." Alfred blinked, brain screeching to a halt. "You what?"

"Why not? Everyone thinks I'm dead. It seemed like a good time to retire without being harassed."

"But..." Alfred stared at him, barely daring to hope. "But you... how...?"

"My boys will be all right." Ivan smiled. "They understand. I have left my sister in charge."

"Wh-" Alfred's jaw dropped. "Now I know you're lying, nobody would be _that_-"

"The other sister, she's flying in. The boys are taking care of things until she arrives. And anybody who underestimates her will be surprised."

Alfred couldn't stop gaping. Sweet Katyusha as a mob boss? Ivan giving up everything... to be with Alfred? "You quit first and then came to me. And you're acting too happy. You aren't expecting to get a 'no' from me again, are you."

Ivan's smiling facade promptly dropped. "Actually, I'm terrified of being rejected again. That's why I didn't come to you sooner."

"Ivan..." Alfred bit his lip, heart aching.

"I don't want to sound like a creepy obsessive ex, Alfred, but... is there any chance at all? Can you get over what I used to do?"

"I..." Goddammit, his eyes were stinging again. Alfred did not want to cry any more.

"I would do anything for you, Al. If you want me to turn myself in to the police-"

"No!" Alfred shook his head. "God, don't do that. They'll put you away forever." He stared up into Ivan's wide, earnest eyes. They were looking a little damp, and Alfred winced. If he ever had to see Ivan cry again, he'd lose it. "You really quit?"

Ivan nodded. "I really don't do that anymore. Even if you tell me no and I walk out of this bus and never see you again."

Alfred let his eyes drop, staring at his knees for lack of something better to look at. He couldn't be with a mafia boss... but could he be with a retired one? Alfred would not have to worry about Ivan committing some horrible crime, or being in danger, and with Ivan's enemies believing him dead he wouldn't have to worry about himself being in danger, or his brother... The only thing left to get over was knowing what he _used _to do.

Oh god... could he ever get over that? Ivan had _killed_ people. And apparently enjoyed it. And... Alfred shivered as he thought of all the things the mafia did. How could he possibly cope with that? And really... there was no guarantee they were completely safe. Somebody could always find out Ivan was still alive.

Alfred looked back up at Ivan, dimly aware that the bus was starting to move. He looked into his eyes again, chewing on his lip. Could he be with a former mafia boss?

A thousand images flickered through his mind. A look of confusion from the man answering the door and asking who had ordered pizza. Giddily telling Matthew all about him after their first long conversation. Their first 'date' at a fast food restaurant, followed by their first timid kiss. The exasperation when he mixed up which twin was which. Their absolutely perfect first time together. Every sweet little favor he had done. His laughter, once Alfred had coaxed it out of him. All of the embarrassing things he had put up with—which seemed even more embarrassing in light of what he was—because it made Alfred happy. How he trusted Alfred more than anyone else. Him laying on the ground bleeding, because he would die to protect Alfred.

Could Alfred be with a former mafia boss? Normally not. But if it was Ivan, he wanted to try...

"Where's my ring?"

Ivan blinked. "What?"

"My ring. Don't you still have it? I want it back."

"You..." Ivan's eyes widened. "Yes, I have it." He reached into a bag he had placed on the floor, digging around for a bit before straightening with a small velvet box. "Here it is."

"Thanks." Alfred took the ring from inside the box and slipped it on. "Oh, it fits! I don't wear rings, how'd you know my size?"

"Your brother."

"Really? He knew about this?"

Ivan shook his head, still looking dumbstruck. "I asked Francis, a while back. He took Matthew on a grand all-day shopping spree. Made him try on clothes and jewelry they weren't even going to buy just to see how he looked in them, was the excuse. Then he reported back to me with the size."

"I remember Mattie bitching about that shopping trip... You _really_ wanted it to be a surprise."

Ivan cleared his throat. "So just to confirm. You'll marry me?"

"Of course." Alfred grinned. Oh, it was foolish. He knew it was. The smart thing to do would be to hold off on that, to give being boyfriends in this new light a try for a while before diving in. But... dammit, Alfred wanted Ivan to be his husband! "It might be hard, knowing the things you have done... but as long as you swear that you're—ah!" He was cut off as Ivan hugged him tight. Alfred wrapped his arms around him, laughing with delight.

"I love you, Al," Ivan said, voice thick.

"I love you too, Vanya."

"I am not happy with you for making me cry like a little girl."

Alfred laughed helplessly. "I'm sorry. Payback for making _me_ cry like a little girl." His laughter trailed off. "I wasn't kidding, though. This will be hard for me. I hope we don't fight too often about... you know..."

"I will never get mad at you for being upset for anything I have done in the past," Ivan said softly. "You can rant as much as you want. I will not try and make excuses for myself. And..." He paused. "And I would appreciate it if you do not break up with me again without sitting down and talking to me about it first."

"I won't." Alfred was starting to feel giddy. Ivan was really his again... But on top of the sappy elation, he felt a stab of guilt for just breaking up with Ivan and not giving him a say. It hadn't even occurred to him that Ivan would choose Alfred over his career. It probably should have. Though that thought led him to another... "You should have come to me sooner."

"I'm sorry." Ivan released Alfred—mostly, he still kept a grip on his hand—and sighed. "I didn't know what you would say. I didn't know what I would do if you rejected me twice in a row."

"I know, I meant... now I'm joining the Air Force, and I don't know if-"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Ivan frowned, puzzled.

"Oh, well, I just... uh..."

"I've known you were going to do that someday since the first time I met you. Does it matter you are doing it a bit sooner than expected? I will be proud of my Air Force husband."

"Oh." Alfred's smile returned. "Right. Okay. But what will you do?"

Ivan shrugged. "I will think of something. To be honest, I could live comfortably even if I never worked again. But I would be happier finding a new job. I'm sure my skills will be useful for something."

"Oh dear." He tried to imagine what Ivan would do with his resume, and was greatly amused.

"I have missed hearing you laugh." Ivan grew serious again. "Especially during that week. I swear, Alfred, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I cannot stand knowing that you were tortured because of me."

Alfred winced, wishing people would stop bringing that time up. "I wasn't tortured."

"Being tied up in a dark basement for many days is torture. Being reduced to wanting me to kill you is torture."

"I didn't know it was you when I said that, you know that. And it was more acceptance than wanting... Can we please stop talking about it?"

Ivan nodded. "We shall think of the future instead."

Alfred immediately cheered back up. "Like planning a wedding!"

"Right. I will have to order a new suit."

"You have a million expensive suits!"

"I cannot get married in an old suit, it should be new." A slow smile spread across Ivan's face. Not one of his usual little smiles, but the type that often meant a very sensual kiss was in the near future. "And you are going to look damn sexy in your uniform."

"I know, right?"

Ivan leaned over to kiss him. Alfred returned the kiss desperately, pressing close, not caring who else on the bus was watching. He kind of did wish Ivan had chosen a different time to come to him. Like a time when they were someplace private. But he had Ivan, and Ivan had chosen to give up the life of a criminal for him, and they were going to be together, and nothing else mattered. A single kiss had never been so sweet.


End file.
